


Of Victory Waiting, Yet to Be Claimed

by dryadgrl13



Series: Enchanter Brianne [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Main Character is not the Inquisitor, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Character Death, NSFW Ch. 29, Naked Cuddling, Near Death Experiences, Non-Penetrative Sex, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Slow Burn, like seriously slow burn guys, more tags to be added later, they don't even "meet" til ch. 10, they meet for realsies in ch. 17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 119,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryadgrl13/pseuds/dryadgrl13
Summary: Every moment of hardship that Enchanter Brianne Lochland has endured has led to this. As the past she's kept hidden away reveals itself slowly, will she use it to her advantage, or will she shatter under pressure? The fate of Thedas is in the hands of the Inquisition, but that isn't limited to just the Inquisitor. The smallest of pebbles can create the largest of ripples.    Come see the Inquisition and all its members through the perspective of someone other than the Inquisitor/Herald/Glowy Person. We will start and stay with the mage perspective, which means never-before released scenes and locations!Part 1 will encompass Brianne's journey from when the Breach opens through the discovery of Skyhold. Every odd chapter will be set in the present while every even chapter will be a flashback from Brianne's past.





	1. Great Heroes Beyond Counting Raised

**Author's Note:**

> “Hear now, Andraste, daughter of Brona,  
> Spear-made of Alamarr, to valiant hearts sing  
> Of victory waiting, yet to be claimed from  
> The steel-bond forgers of barren Tevene.”  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Address and Greeting

Chapter 1: Great Heroes Beyond Counting Raised

“Great heroes beyond counting raised  
Oak and iron 'gainst chains of north-men  
And walked the lonely worm-roads evermore.”  
\--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Seeks an End to The Suffering of The Alamarri

She was working with Jon when the lights flared twice. Fear, sharp and debilitating, shot through her like chain lightning. The rune schematic she had in her hand fluttered to the desk as she stood frozen over it. Not seeming to notice her sudden immobility, Jon began collecting their work and straightening up. They were, after all, only borrowing the room for the day.

In the darkest corner of Brianne’s heart, she envied the Tranquil in moments such as these. Jon was not momentarily overcome with panic, as she was, at witnessing Fiona’s summons. He never would be. He would never dream again, nor hear the quiet song of lyrium, nor feel the thrill of mastering a particularly difficult spell, but when Fear struck, and prowled like a wild animal inside her, Brianne wondered if it would be worth it.

She came back to herself when she felt Jon’s hand land lightly on her elbow. He murmured that they should head towards the courtyard, and left the room. Brianne took a deep, steadying breath and followed him. 

It had been Brianne’s idea that Fiona create some way of communicating with the mages under her protection. Redcliffe castle was larger than most Circle towers, and over half of the mages gathered had never lived anywhere other than their Circle. Fiona had needed a way to quickly communicate with a vast number of people spread across a vast amount of space. Brianne had suggested fire messages. Fiona had smiled at her, and had seemed impressed, but other senior mages had been scandalized at the notion. Civilized mages of The Circle did not send fire messages, as though playing at Chasind barbarians.  
Fiona’s compromise had been fire signals. Each room of the castle, no matter the weather or season, had fire of some kind. The castle was riddled with fireplaces and wall sconces. In certain parts of the castle, some mages could even conjure veil fire (Brianne kept herself from thinking too hard about how and why that was possible). It had taken a few weeks and a number of drills before everyone had the different signals memorized, but overall, the method worked quite well. 

It took longer than normal to get to the courtyard due to the influx of people in the hall. Arl Teagan had allotted this wing of the castle for mages to use to continue their work. Historians and scholars worked in the library and solars, runists had their own suites nearest to the forge, alchemists were allowed to convert bedrooms into indoor gardens, and first enchanters carried on teaching their apprentices in makeshift classrooms. 

Brianne tried to keep up with Jon’s steady gait, but was waylaid by the fear she saw in her fellow mages’ eyes. She could barely stomach the emotion on her own, but feeling it sitting hot and thick in the air around them, knowing every mage around her was unconsciously feeding that demon, could not be borne. Donning the mantle she had created while in Val Royeaux, Brianne began speaking to those around her. 

“Senior Enchanter Carroll!” Smile. “Over here!” Wave. “How is your research coming along? Have you discovered any other correlative concerns surrounding elfroot poisoning?”

“Abegail!” Smile. Handshake. “It seems as though it’s been ages since we’ve spoken.” Smile and nod. “I understand completely. How have your studies been going? Have you decided on a specialty yet?” Smile and nod again. “May I make a few suggestions?”

“Enchanter Liathra!” Smile. Hug. _“Andaran atish’an.” _Smile and laugh. “Of course I remembered how to say it! You’re an excellent teacher. Or I’m an excellent pupil.” Grin. “How is your garden coming along? Is the embrium getting enough light?”__

“Jon! Jon, slow down! I cannot keep up with your ridiculously long legs!”

The last comment, shouted over the heads of those in the crowd making their way through the door that led to the courtyard, caused most of the mages around Brianne to smile and laugh. As was her intent. With her heart marginally lighter, she entered into the main courtyard.

Fiona had situated herself underneath the great tree that took up a portion of the left side of the courtyard. She was surrounded on all sides by her fellow mages. If Brianne had been standing in that position, she was certain she’d seem small and overwhelmed, but Fiona stood like a beacon, calling all eyes to her. The seemingly ageless elven woman radiated strength and serenity. Only the slight, nervous fluttering of her hands conveyed her true anxiety. It only took another minute for the last of the mages to pack themselves into the courtyard, and Fiona began to speak.

Brianne was afraid of many things. She was afraid that the Arl would tire of sharing his home with them and order them to leave. She was afraid of templars storming the castle in the dead of night and massacring them while they slept. She was afraid that one morning she would wake up, and the face in her mirror would not be her own, but that of an abomination. Brianne lived in constant fear of what the future might bring, but even her wildest imaginings hadn’t been able to conjure up the words that came out of Grand Enchanter Fiona’s mouth.

“We have just received news that almost everyone who attended The Conclave is dead.” 

Absolute silence reigned throughout the courtyard. Even the children stood silently, clinging to each other or their guardians’ hands. Brianne could almost taste the shock and fear on the breeze that blew through the exposed courtyard as the entirety of the Rebel Mages waited in silence for their leader to tell them how their future had been altered.

Fiona shifted her hands in front of her before continuing on in her lilting, Orlesian accent. “I was going to ask for a moment of silence for our brothers and sisters who served as emissaries in our stead, but I see that is not necessary.” Fiona gave the crowd a sombre smile and lifted her hands in an elaborate gesture. Blue sparks flew from her hands and hovered in the air above her, cycling through symbols representing Andraste, the Chantry, and Falon’Din. Seconds later, several other mages in the crowd did the same. All those gathered stayed silent until the lights in the air dimmed, and murmured blessings, prayers, and curses were finally released.

Once the sound barrier had been broken, the tidal wave of questions and outrage finally broke against the shoreline. Voices were raised to be heard over others, imperious demands were made of the Grand Enchanter, and throughout it all Fiona stood quiet and still underneath the tree, waiting patiently. Senior enchanters began herding the children and young apprentices back into the castle, and the Tranquil began to sedately following them inside. Brianne wished she could follow them, but instead began to make her way farther into the crowd. 

Fiona began speaking again, and the mages began to hush. Fiona explained to them that almost a day ago, Divine Justinia had called for the leading members of the mages and templars to meet with her in the main cathedral of The Temple of Sacred Ashes. The small collection of representatives that had been meeting on and off for almost a week had borne no results, only more bickering and an increase in agitation. Divine Justinia proclaimed that the leaders of each faction meet, in a show of good-will and dedication to bringing an end to this crisis.

Brianne already knew all of this. Most of the mages gathered in the courtyard already knew this. Fiona’s complete transparency and willingness to include as many as she could in her decision-making process was one of the reasons that led Brianne to side with the Rebels instead of the Loyalists. 

Senior Enchanter Carroll, whom Brianne had exchanged a few words with earlier, shouted towards Fiona, “The Chantry was in league with the templars, weren’t they? It was a blighted trap!”

More voices rose in outrage, curses directed towards Divine Justinia, the Maker, and Lord Seeking Lucius flying past angry lips. Fiona only narrowed her eyes and waited a few beats before continuing what she was saying. 

“At this moment in time, my friends, we know very little. If it was a trap set by The Chantry, something went terribly wrong. The runners from our camp outside of Haven tell me that Divine Justinia was inside the cathedral, along with our representatives, when the temple was destroyed. It does not seem likely that the Divine would sacrifice her life, along with the lives of all of her Grand Clerics, simply to see mages suffer.”

“Then it was the templars!” came a cry from the back of the crowd. 

“Perhaps,” Fiona said with pursed lips and a thoughtful expression. “But the templars also had some of their highest ranking officials present. They would have to have willingly sacrificed a great number of their own.”

“You don’t think that bastard’s capable of that?” was the phrase shouted throughout the crowd, almost in unison.

“How was the temple destroyed?” Another person asked. 

Fiona turned towards the right section of the crowd to address the disembodied voice that had asked the question. Her gaze momentarily flicked upwards, and Brianne followed it. She saw Arl Teagan out on the balcony of what she could only assume was his personal quarters, staring somberly down at the mages gathered in his home. 

“It was an explosion. Those in the camp could see it from outside of Haven. The reports are that it was magical in origin, as a tear in the Veil was created above the detonation site. The temple and miles of surrounding area were decimated, at first by the blast, and currently by the demons that are pouring out of it.”

Silence again reigned in the courtyard. Brianne felt as though they were all doomed. An explosion, caused by magic so strong it tore a hole through the Veil, caused the murder of hundreds of Chantry officials, Circle mages, and leading members of the Order, not to mention destroyed a holy landmark. It didn’t matter whether or not the Rebels were being framed, or whether an outside force was simply trying to end the war, mages would be held responsible. They were looking at a repeat of the disaster in Kirkwall all over again. 

Before the shock had worn off, Fione began addressing them again. “I have a difficult decision to make, my friends, and I feel that we must be unanimous in this. I must ask myself, and you, whether or not to send support to Haven.”

Brianne had finally made her way to the front of the crowd, and was able to look Fiona in the eye when she asked, “What do you mean by support, Grand Enchanter?”

Fiona turned her gaze towards Brianne, but her response was for everyone. “That is also something that I must decide. Do we send a contingency of healers, apothecaries, Rift mages, and Knight-Enchanters to bolster the troops stationed there? Do we simply send supplies and a note of our sincerest sympathies and claims of innocence? Or do we do nothing at all, and call home those of ours that are still in the area?”  
The cacophony of voices after Fiona was finished speaking was deafening. Out of the corner of Brianne’s eye she saw the Arl turn from the courtyard and enter his room. Brianne noticed Fiona’s gaze was on his balcony, and a look of sadness crossed her face as she watched the man retreat to his room. 

Turning back to the mages, Fiona reminded them to think on what she had asked, and to report their decision to the First Enchanter that was appointed to them. She then asked the First Enchanters to meet her in the library of the east wing at sunset. 

Sensing their dismissal, the mages began to filter back into the castle. It was even slower going than before, as large groups had formed and were animatedly discussing their opinions on Fiona’s next steps, as well as theories on what exactly had happened at The Conclave. Brianne held back and turned her eyes towards the tree Fiona had been standing underneath. As she watched the branches swaying with the breeze, she let her mind wander in the different directions the future might hold, the icy grip of Fear settling deep into her bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not only my first fanfic in this fandom, but also my first fanfic ever. I've been an avid consumer of fics for years now, and I finally decided to buckle down and write my own. I do not have a beta, so please please please feel free to leave any constructive comments or criticisms. I want to be the best that I can be, and welcome any and all help. Thank you so much for taking a chance on my story and starting to read it!


	2. Poison That Weakens and Does Not Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit from Brianne's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Mighty of arm and warmest of heart,  
> Rendered to dust. Bitter is sorrow,  
> Ate raw and often, poison that weakens and does not kill.”  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Seeks an End to The Suffering of The Alamarri

Brianne loved when her father let her visit his patients with him. She loved watching his hands glow as they passed over swollen ankles, or hovered over fevered brows. He would fall quiet and serious as he focused on his work, his mouth pursing in concentration. She especially loved when he asked her to help him. It was always something simple, such as handing him his bag full of potions and poultices, or having her hold the end of a bandage as he wrapped a wound. Sometimes though, he would charge her with one of the most important tasks: keeping his patients calm and distracted. 

Brianne knew that some people didn’t like mages. Her mother had explained to her, in words simple enough for a child to understand, that some people were deathly afraid of magic. That meant that they were also afraid of people who could wield magic. Brianne wasn’t able to imagine anyone being afraid of her father, but she became a believer the first time he came home with a gash on his forehead after helping a woman down by the bluffs deliver her baby. 

The next time it happened, Brianne was with her father. He had just walked in the door when a runner arrived, summoning him back to the tower. A Harrowing had gone wrong, and the Circle needed its senior healer. Brianne had followed him out the door, demanding (in the way that only children can) that she wanted to see her friends, to make sure they were alright. Her father had sighed, lifted his eyes skyward, and said a curse to the Maker for saddling him with such a stubborn girl. Her mother insisted that all of them would go. If the Circle’s senior healer needed to be present, then an extra Knight-Captain on scene might be warranted. 

The remnants of the abomination had already been cleared away by the time they arrived. The templar that had dealt with it was lying on a cot in the corner of the room. Brianne couldn’t see what was wrong with him physically, as he was surrounded by a half-ring of templars and mages alike. The child that Brianne was could feel the tension in the room. It felt as though everyone was waiting for the wounded templar to suddenly transform into the abomination he had just slain, which was completely ridiculous. It only took a moment of waiting before it was revealed why her father had been summoned. 

“Get away from me!” shrieked the templar, swinging his sword out in an arch, an impressive feat to accomplish while lying down. He was much younger than her mother, and Brianne wondered if this had been his first Harrowing. She had never been to a Harrowing herself, but had heard many stories from both her father and mother. None of them left her half as terrified as the young templar before them. 

“Ser Aerin!” shouted her outraged mother at the same moment that her father ordered, “Everyone clear the room!”

The mages left immediately, being used to following their Senior Enchanter’s orders, but the templars hesitated, looking to Brianne’s mother for direction. “You heard the man,” her mother snapped, furious eyes never leaving Ser Aerin. “Out.”

Brianne’s mother stalked towards the wounded templar, but came up short at her father’s calmly stressed, “Knight-Captain.” She pivoted to stare at him. They held each other’s gaze for what seemed a small eternity. Something was communicated between the two of them, for her mother’s expression softened, and she took a deep breath before turning back to Ser Aerin. 

She continued her approach much more calmly. She spoke softly to the templar, ordering him to lower his weapon and report. Ser Aerin seemed to not notice her mother at all. His full attention was leveled on the mage slowly approaching him.

Brianne looked into Ser Aerin’s eyes, glued to her father’s every movement and gesture, and met Fear for the first time. Its gaping maw shone through the templar’s pupils. Its talons dug deep into the man’s tensing muscles. Its laughter echoed inside each hard, desperate, wheeze of breath. Fear was thriving inside the wounded man, and Brianne suddenly knew, with complete clarity, that it would wreak as much havoc as possible before giving the man up.

Her mother said something to Ser Aerin, too soft for Brianne to make out, and the templar finally wrenched his gaze away from her father and slowly relinquished his sword to her mother. Her father finished his slow approach, and dropped to his knees beside the wounded man in the same moment that her mother turned away, presumably to place the templar’s sword a safe distance away from them. 

The templar’s reaction to her father’s sudden movement was instantaneous. He lurched back in his cot and raised his right hand. The texture of the air in the room seemed to thicken, and Brianne swore she could hear a faint buzzing sound. Her mother shouted at the templar to cease and desist, but whatever he was doing seemed to affect her father. His hand shot out to land on the corner of the cot, and he paled and doubled over at the waist.

All Brianne knew was that her father was in danger. With no thought to her own safety, she sprinted across the room and shouted the first thing that came to mind.

“I know you!”

The wounded man recoiled from the little girl that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Her mother shouted at her to get back, and Ser Aerin opened his mouth to say something, but Brianne continued on.

“Aerin. I know you. Do you remember? Do you remember me? I come here to play with friends. Amaris is teaching me chess. I don’t like it, cause he beats me all the time. Mamma says I’ll be good one day. Do you like chess?”

Now, Brianne didn’t lie very often. She never had the need to. She was used to telling little white lies though, and she hoped that was practice enough to be convincing. She had never seen Ser Aerin before today, but if he had been stationed at Ostwick for more than a few days, there was a chance he may have seen her running around with her friends that lived in the tower with their mage parents. He may also have seen her wandering the halls in search of her father.

Ser Aerin’s mouth closed with a click of teeth, and he stared at her as though she were a nug that had wandered into the room and sprouted wings. His right hand was still raised in her father’s direction, and her father was still kneeling next to her, bracing himself on the templar’s cot, but the atmosphere became less charged by the second.

The templar opened his mouth again and managed a stammered, “I’m not sure that I…” before Brianne cut him off with an exclaimed, “Oh! Your eyes!”

Ser Aerin fully dropped his hand in favor of raising it to his face and gasped out, “What’s wrong with them?”

Brianne beamed at him. “They’re so pretty.”

The templar turned an astonishing shade of red and said nothing. Brianne turned towards her mother, and smiling, asked, “Don’t you think so Mama?”

Ser Aerin jerked his head back and forth between her and her mother several times before her mother took pity on him and responded. “Yes Annie, he has very pretty eyes. Pretty eyes that are in a world of Maker-forsaken trouble. Please help your father up so I can hear the rest of Ser Pretty Eyes’ report.”

The templar turned as pale as her father after her mother’s words sunk in. Brianne turned to her father and saw that he was still in the same position as before, but had begun to shake. Brianne lowered herself onto her knees to look up into his face. He had begun to regain some color, but his light brown hair had fallen across his forehead, hiding his expression from her. She whispered a quiet, “Papa?” and was immediately engulfed in his arms. Her worry melted away when she realized why her father was trembling.

“I really don’t see how any of this is funny,” her mother stated from next to Ser Aerin, who had collapsed back down onto his cot after finishing his report of the failed Harrowing. The comment only caused her father to hug her tighter, and a soft hiccup escaped his lips.

After a few more seconds of kneeling with his daughter, he finally recovered enough energy from Ser Aerin’s smiting to stand. Brianne retreated back to the room’s doorway to watch her father finally examine the wounds the templar had received. The man looked sincerely contrite, and stumbled and stammered his way through multiple apologies as her father dealt with his injuries. Her mother stood next to her father, glaring imperiously down at the man under her charge, probably thinking up suitable punishments for initiating an unprovoked attack on a Senior Enchanter. 

Brianne heard quiet scuffling out in the hallway behind her, and turned in time to see a large mouse scurrying down the hallway. Smiling, she exited the room. 

A man was waiting for her in the hallway. His dark blonde hair hung flat and shaggy, parted severely down the middle of his head. Tonight, he was wearing Apprentice robes, and the sight of him in them caused Brianne to laugh. He raised a single eyebrow at her before grinning himself. 

“I thought you opposed the Circle and everything it stood for?” Brianne accused good-naturedly.

The man shrugged his shoulders. “As they say: When in The Circle…”

“Get out as quickly as you can?” finished Brianne, causing him to laugh outright. 

“It is your fault, my dear girl, that I am dressed this way,” he said, while turning to continue walking down the hallway. Brianne immediately fell into step beside him as they walked through the halls of the tower. “Why did you choose to come here tonight?” 

Brianne’s gaze turned as serious as her five year old self was able. “You know as well as I do, Mouse, that I’m no Dreamer. I didn’t choose to be anywhere.”

The man scoffed at her response. “Then why do you think your mind turned to this memory, tonight of all nights?”

Even though they had wandered away from the room Brianne had left, she found that that the next room they passed contained the same scene. She stood in the hallway with Mouse, watching her father work and her mother stand guard. There was a replica of her five-year-old self inside the room, sitting on the cot next to Ser Aerin, chatting his ear off about chess maneuvers and naming all the things in nature his eyes reminded her of. The man was blushing again, and her mother radiated her own stoic brand of pride watching her daughter interacting with the wounded man. Every once in a while her father would turn adoring eyes to his daughter, and add a comment to her running dialogue with the templar.

“Even at such a young age you stayed so calm and collected in a crisis,” Mouse commented from behind her. “Did you have to deal with a crisis today?”

“Of a sorts.”

The man hummed his acknowledgement of her deflection and said nothing else, waiting for Brianne to finish watching her memory.

Instead of turning towards her friend, Brianne pivoted towards the mirror that hung on the wall nearby. Walking over to it, she stared at her reflection. Large gray eyes highlighted by dark circles stared back at her. Skin too pale, and long, unkempt hair framed her round face. She kept her gaze on her reflection when she finally responded to Mouse’s earlier question.

“The templar...he was afraid.”

Mouse stayed silent and Brianne continued. “He was afraid, and he took his fear out on my father. Nothing came of it, but Fear rose up through that man, and caused him to act without thinking.”

Brianne finally turned away from the mirror and back towards her friend. The man was gone, and in his place was the mouse from before. Brianne sighed and got down on her knees. Mouse jumped up onto her outstretched hands, and she brought him closer to her face. She looked directly into his eyes and confessed, “Things are happening in my world. Things that cause me to be afraid. Things that cause others to be afraid, and to lash out with it.”

The mouse snuffled his nose next to hers, and echoed all around her mind was his response, _But you will not let Fear control you. ___

Brianne attempted a half-hearted smile, and whispered, “I will try, my friend.”

_And you will succeed._


	3. Voices There Raised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Redcliffe. Speculation on the Inquisition, enter Arl Teagan, and the mage plot line progresses!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “To the wisest I sang,  
> To the wing'd cup-bearers of the tall sky-vaulting,  
> To the wintry halls of strong mountain-kings,  
> Where in days forgotten, voices there raised  
> Might be gift'd answer and those seeking find.”  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Seeks an End to The Suffering of The Alamarri

Redcliffe Castle’s dining hall was where the mages took their meals. Fereldan decor, even that fit for an arl, was minimal and practical in nature. Fine rugs and draperies, table coverings and chair cushions, were removed to reveal stout and sturdy wooden pieces that had most likely been there since the castle was first built. It was Ferelden practicality at its finest.

Fiona had insisted that the mages be as self-sufficient as possible while staying in Redcliffe. The arl was willing to give them, and the servants they had brought with them, access to the castle’s kitchen and larder, but Fiona had declined his hospitality. Brianne assumed that Fiona’s goal was to engender the arl towards allowing them to stay as long as possible, but she had never outright asked. The mages had enough servants and able-bodied cooks among them that there was always breakfast and dinner available for those who wanted it, including the arl and his household staff. Food was served promptly after the sun rose and just as the sun began to set every day.

Children were mixed in with the adults sitting on the long benches, everyone chatting away happily as they helped themselves to the food laid out before them. A collection of Tranquil were seated together at the end of one of the tables, an Apprentice hovering nearby to make sure they actually ate some food. The doors to the dining hall had been thrown open, and noises from the antechamber and connecting hallways were carried in. Sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows and scattered in prisms across the green, circular carpets. 

Brianne allowed herself to lean against one of the giant, wooden mabari statues that lined the entranceway while she watched the scene before her. In moments such as these, she could almost forget that she was in the middle of a war. She never mistook that she was back in The Circle, though, for a gathering such as this would never have occurred there. She had vague memories from the short amount of time she spent visiting Ostwick’s Circle as a child, but she was fairly certain that if any of the Circles would have allowed such a large collection of mages to freely sit together (laughing, talking, and openly practicing spells in a common area) it would have been that one. Small gatherings such as these were allowed at The White Spire, with a heavy templar presence, but never in Kinloch Hold, before or after the devastation and rebirth of its Circle. 

She brought her thoughts back from such a melancholy place when she overheard the group closest to her talking about the newly formed Inquisition.

“...from the original. So it’s obviously a religious organization. Another arm of The Chanty.”

“I heard that The Chantry denounced them. Called the Herald of Andraste a heretic, and any who follow them blasphemers. ”

“The Divine and all of her Grand Clerics were blown to smithereens! In one of the most holiest of places. I say that maybe the Maker finally got his shite together and sent someone to do his dirty work for him.”

That last comment was met with gasps and giggles, and caused Brianne to move from her semi-hidden spot against the statute to slowly walk along the outside row of those seated. Several tables had been pushed together to form one long line, with people sitting on both sides. While in Val Royeaux, Brianne had perfected the art of openly eavesdropping without attracting notice, a skill she didn’t realize she’d need to use anywhere outside of Halamshiral or The White Spire. 

She set a slow pace down the side of the hall, listening in on the conversations of her fellow mages. 

“...heard the Herald was a suspect originally. Fell right out of the rift in front of some scouts.”

“No...they’re from Ostwick. Got ties to the Chantry. I still think it’s a setup for…”

“What if they really are Maker-sent? With a wave of their hand they closed that rift! What’s going to happen to those of us who’ve forsaken the Chantry and Andraste’s teachings?” 

“I bet it’s an apostate Rift Mage taking a piss on everyone.”

Brianne heard a snort come from directly behind her, and after turning, saw the arl himself a few paces back from where she stood. He was leaning leisurely against a part of the wall covered in a tapestry depicting an idyllic scene of Lake Calenhad in the summertime. He seemed to be keeping himself from laughing too loudly at the comment they had both overheard. His blue eyes twinkled with suppressed mirth, and he inclined his head in her direction, having noticed she was staring at him. 

Brianne dropped into a low curtsey, the kind she normally reserved for the most important of Orlesian figureheads. She knew that Fereldans didn’t stand on as much ceremony as Orlesians did, but Brianne held too high of a regard for the man in front of her to show him any less courtesy than she would Empress Celene. This man had practically displaced himself and his staff in order to accommodate and protect hundreds of homeless, rebellious mages. Mages that, at any moment, could do him a world of harm. It was mandatory to Brianne that the trust and respect he gave them be returned in kind. 

“My Lord Arl,” Brianne murmured as she straightened from her curtsey. He waived his hand as if to signal for her to cease what she was doing, and the faint blush on his cheeks belayed his discomfort with her display.

“Please, no more of that,” he smiled and seemed to give himself a quick shake. “You’re from one of the Orlesian Circles, I take it?”

Brianne did not detect any malice in his question. “Most recently, yes, My Lord.”

Arl Teagan made a face at the title and said, “Arl Teagan is fine, if you please. We Fereldans don’t insist on making those lower in status simper away. It’s tedious and off-putting.” He graced her with a boyish smile starkly in contrast with the tell-tale signs of his age. He had threads of gray woven through the braid of his brown hair, and patches of it along the hair at his temples. Laugh-lines merged with age-lines around his eyes and mouth, and Brianne made note of how handsome he looked, even though he was sure to be almost two decades her senior. 

Struck by boldness due to his easy-going nature, Brianne decided to sate her curiosity. “Arl Teagan, may I ask you a question?”

“Only if I am allowed to ask one in return.”

Brianne smiled and inclined her head in affirmation. “Of course, My...arl,” she finished lamely. 

Arl Teagan laughed, and said, “My Arl. I like how that sounds.”

It was Brianne’s turn to blush, and found her eyebrows rising in shock. She was used to Orlesians flirting, in the teasing way they did, but most of the time it was not done seriously. Romantic pet-names, outlandish proclamations, and shocking innuendos were wielded like the finest pair of daggers, meant to slice pieces off an opponent's guard. She did not expect such things from Fereldans.

The arl’s laughter died down. “I apologize for my forwardness, Lady Mage. I must confess it has been some time since I’ve spoken calmly and rationally with anyone other than your fearless leader Fiona. My good-spirits must have gotten the better of me, along with the face of a beautiful woman.”

Now that Brianne was ready for his flirting, she found herself much more comfortable with it. She smiled, and performing a casual half-bow, said, “Enchanter Brianne Lochland, formerly of The White Spire.”

Arl Teagan let out a low whistle. “Val Royeaux. Impressive, Enchanter. Lochland, though, is not an Orlesian surname, which leads me to my first question.”

Brianne smiled coyly and responded, “Arl Teagan, I thought I was to begin my interrogation of you first?” 

“Was it to be an interrogation then?” the arl asked with twinkling eyes.

“A friendly one,” Brianne assured him.

“Then by all means, Enchanter, ask away.”

Brianne waited a beat before sobering herself and asking, “Why are you letting us stay here?”

The arl’s gaze shifted to one of the mabari statues next to Brianne. She waited patiently while he ordered his thoughts, his expression turning pensive and serious. When he finally answered her, his voice was a lower volume than before, causing Brianne to shift closer to him in order to catch what he was saying above the noise in the dining hall.  


“I’m sure you’re aware that the Warden-Commander of Ferelden is a mage. She’s arguably one of the most famous mages of our age. She’s also Fereldan. She grew up in Kinloch Hold, barely a stone’s throw away. She’s also the wife of my nephew.”

Brianne raised her eyes at that piece of information. She hadn’t known that Alistair was related to Arl Teagan, although she could have figured it out on her own, knowing his lineage.  


The arl continued. “She’s living proof that mages are not power-hungry, demon-possessed creatures out to destroy the world. All of the warden mages, even former ones such as Fiona, are proof that templars are meant for better things besides glorified baby-sitting. All Fereldens owe their lives to Warden-Commander Ceridwen. Laying the cloak of protection upon mages formerly manipulated and marginalized, mages that have peacefully taken their fate into their own hands, is the least I can do to repay Ferelden’s debt.”

Moved beyond words, Brianne simply stood in silence for several long moments, staring out at the crowd of mages gathered together to break their fast. A child squealed happily as someone placed a plate of hot food in front of them. Two Apprentices sat side-by-side, both attempting to energize each other’s empty mugs. Farther down, a large group swapped hypotheses and conjecture on the Inquisition and its so-called Herald of Andraste.

“I believe, Arl Teagan, you have earned your question.”

The arl smiled, which was Brianne’s intent, but before he could say anymore, a hush fell over the dining hall. Turning towards the entranceway, Brianne saw Fiona enter, followed by what seemed to be the rest of the mages that had yet to filter into the room to retrieve their breakfast. She felt the arl stiffen beside her, but glancing at him, saw nothing amiss in his expression. He watched Fiona as openly and avidly as every other person in the hall.

Fiona made her way to the natural stone dais at the other end of the dining hall. Once there, she turned towards the mages assembled, and began to speak. “It is my understanding that many of you were not happy with the decision I made last week.”

Not happy was phrasing it lightly. For the first time in the history of Rebel Mage assemblies (not that there had been very many in the last handful of years), popular opinion had been split down the middle.

After the destruction of the Conclave, half of the mages had urged Fiona towards absolute and utter silence. They advocated for calling home the emissaries still camped outside of Haven, and hypothesized that any damage control Fiona might attempt would backfire. They drafted a rhetoric of fear, citing the disaster at Kirkwall as one of the many pieces of evidence for their argument.

The other half of the mages, the half that Brianne belonged to, insisted that help must be given. It was a sure sign of guilt and cowardice to turn tail and hide. Most spoke towards sending out small groups to help the soldiers (soon to be The Inquisition) battle the demons that daily, sometimes hourly, fell from the rift in the sky. If that was not possible, or too risky, then support in the form of supplies and healers should be sent to Haven as a show of solidarity and kinship.

With opinion being split so evenly, Fiona made an executive decision. Brianne was certain that Fear won out that day, as all the mages were called back to Redcliffe Castle, and its gates were shut tight. No mages were allowed to leave, no messages were allowed to be sent, and no support was to be given to the battered, bleeding troops fighting against the tear in the Veil. 

Fiona stood in front of them now, head high, radiating strength and authority. “Time has passed, and I have had the luxury of observing and ruminating on the consequences of my actions. Therefore, I come to you with a compromise. Our sources tell me that the Herald of Andraste will soon be making their way to Val Royeaux’s Summer Bazaar.”

A quiet murmur broke out among the mages, but Fiona continued to speak. “I will attempt to meet with this Herald. I will gauge the power and importance of the Inquisition firsthand, and I will see if they are willing to meet peacefully with us.”

“Do not tie us to some power-hungry organization. I will not be chained again!” cried a young man Brianne didn’t recognize. The others surrounding him nodded in agreement, and shouts of, “Be careful Grand Enchanter!” and “Don’t get caught by any Chantry blighters, Enchanter!” echoed through the hall. Fiona smiled that grim smile of hers, and slowly made her exit. 

Brianne shifted to her right, ready to discuss this turn events with Arl Teagan, only to catch a glimpse of him retreating through the crown after Fiona. Brianne took up the spot the arl had vacated, leaning against the tapestry depicting her old home, and returned to listening to the sounds of the voices in the hall.


	4. Secret-Steep't Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trevelyan connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From sky-tearing peaks of the sacred mountain  
> To secret-steep'd roots of the ancient oak trees  
> A lonesome choir, I, song failing unanswered,  
> Voice on wind returning, answered no more.  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Alamarri Gods Do Not Answer

Because Brianne’s father was a Senior Enchanter, and the Circle’s most accomplished Spirit Healer, he was always charged with answering the calls for help from Ostwick’s noble families. He would claim that the nobles trusted him a bit more than the other mages because of his choice of life partner (her mother would always make a face at that phrase, and her father would laugh and remind her that she had yet to officially make an honest man out of him).

Her house was situated almost perfectly equidistant between the Circle tower and Ostwick’s Chantry, which was at the heart of the city. Her mother had been gifted the house through the only living relative she had, and it was the perfect place for her family to live. Neither parent had to travel far to go where they were needed each day. It was also never too far of a walk for her father to travel to Nobles’ houses in person, instead of meeting them at the Chantry. 

When visiting those patients, her father always took her with him. No matter the age, gender, or severity of illness, her presence was always required. The incident with Ser Aerin showed that Brianne had a natural affinity for misdirection and manipulation. She was observant, thoughtful, and had a crystalline memory. She had the uncanny ability to predict the directions of people’s thoughts and conversations, which enabled her to know when and how to redirect them. 

Brianne’s mother first allowed her to make house calls with her father in order to prove his theories on their daughter wrong. She was just a little girl, after all. Children excel in creating distractions. Her mother went with them for the first few patients, for her own peace of mind. It quickly became clear, after Brianne was able to calm down a screaming, thrashing nobleman who had impaled his hand on his family’s heirloom halberd, that Brianne was a gifted, precocious five year old (almost six, she reminded them). 

She met her first real friend while on an outing with her father. He had been called to the Trevelyan mansion because the Trevelyan heir was sick. They got there in record time, and Brianne let her father rush ahead in favor of staring at the beautiful statues, paintings, and exotic plants that decorated the mansion. No one paid her any mind as she slowly made her way deeper into the house where she could hear her father’s calm, reassuring tones.

It seemed as though she wasn’t needed. Her father was bent over a child-sized bed, nothing visible but a large mound of blankets near the headboard. There were only a few candles lit, and only a handful more out in the hall. A couple stood behind her father. The lady was draped in a pale silk sleeping robe, her dark skin creating a dramatic contrast against it. A giant of a man stood slightly in front of her, and she was connected to him by the hand she had placed on the small of his back. He didn’t seem to acknowledge that it was there, his attention completely fixed on every movement of her father’s glowing hands as they traced the outline of the bundle on the bed. While not comfortable or at ease, Brianne sensed that she wasn’t needed to act as an intermediary between the terrifying mage and defenseless creature he had come to take advantage of.

Brianne went back out into the hallway, intent on looking at the giant mural that covered the entire east-facing wall, but movement from an open doorway caught her eye. Hunched there, wrapped in a well-worn blanket, was boy. They made eye contact at the same time, and Brianne could see how puffy and red his eyes were. He immediately straightened up, raised his chin, and resettled the blanket around himself so that it fell like a regal cape. Brianne would have giggled if the boy hadn’t looked like he was trying to hide how upset he was. 

Crossing the hallway, Brianne smiled toothily at him and reached out her hand. “Hi!”

The boy looked down at her hand as if he’d never seen one before. After a moment, he suddenly shook himself and attempted to complete the handshake. He seemed to have forgotten that his hands were holding his blanket up, and one side of it dropped to the ground. The handshake was aborted as he scrambled to cover up his night-clothes with the blanket, and ended up giving her an awkward half bow. “Caldwell Trevelyan. Second son of Donovan Trevelyan, head of House Trevelyan and cousin to Teyrn Bartlette.”

Now it was Brianne’s turn to be uncertain on how to respond. She had a last name, but it was her father’s, and didn’t mean anything to anyone, not even him. She wasn’t related to anyone famous or noble. When others introduced her, they simply said, “This is Enchanter Nolin’s daughter,” or “Have you met Knight-Captain Annika’s girl?”

For a split second she contemplated creating an elaborate title filled with importance and intrigue, but settled for returning Caldwell’s bow and saying, “Healer-in-Training Brianne, at your service good ser.”

“How can you be a healer in training?” He asked.

“My papa’s a healer. I go with him and help. He says I’m getting a head start, and I’ll be the best healer there ever was.”

Caldwell’s eyes grew round and he looked towards his brother’s bedroom. “Your father’s in there with Cas?”

Brianne blinked at him. “Is that your big brother?” Caldwell nodded, so Brianne nodded back. 

He took a small step back from her and hissed, “You’re a mage!”

Brianne held up her hands, palms facing outwards. “No! No, I’m not. I swear. I just hand papa things, or hold things, or talk to people when they’re scared and angry.” She lowered her hands and gave him an earnest smile. “Papa says I might not have any magic. Or maybe just a little, not enough to do big spells. Mama doesn’t have any at all. Papa says she does, that it’s just a different kind than his. They yell about it sometimes.”

Caldwell looked uncomfortable, but came back to where he was standing before. “Sometimes my parents won’t talk to each other for days. They’re not mad. They just…” he trailed off and looked back towards his brother’s room. The door was still open, and both adult Trevelyans were speaking with Brianne’s father as they left the room. Everyone seemed at ease, so Brianne was certain the Trevelyan heir probably had a simple problem that one of her father’s potions or poultices would cure. 

Donovan Trevelyan saw them first, and in a boisterous voice said, “There you are, Caldwell. Playing host to our guest, I see. Good lad.” Donovan turned his gaze towards Brianne. “And I take it you’re this fine gentleman’s daughter? We thought you were made up! He was telling Caspian all about you, and you were nowhere to be found.”

Brianne opened her mouth to apologize for not being where she was supposed to be, but Lady Trevelyan stepped in. “Mi amor, do not tease. You are already so intimidating.” She smiled at Brianne, and Brianne noticed that the hand that had been touching her husband earlier was now resting lightly on her slightly distended stomach. “Thank you for keeping my youngest son occupied. He was worried when his brother fell so ill.” Lady Trevelyan reached out and ran a hand through Caldwell’s hair. “My little boy has a soft heart.”

Donovan Trevelyan scoffed and began detailing all of the plans he had for both of his sons. The adults continued towards the mansion’s front exit with Brianne and Caldwell trailing behind. Caldwell looked like his mother had mortified him with her comment, and Brianne was overcome by the urge to make him feel better.

Just before they reached the exit, Brianne turned to Caldwell and asked, “Do you play chess?”

Caldwell looked surprised, but responded that he did. Sort of. His brother Cas was being taught how to play by their tutor, and Caldwell watched. Brianne informed him that she knew how to play, but that she was terrible at it. Her papa had taught her, but she didn’t have anyone to play with unless she was able to visit her friends in the Circle.

“You get to go inside the Tower?” Caldwell asked breathlessly.

Brianne said that she did, in order to bring her father things and visit with friends that lived there, but she didn’t have any time to tell him any more about that right now. They had stopped walking altogether, and both sets of parents had fallen out of sight.

Caldwell looked bashful all of a sudden, and began picking at one corner of his blanket. He proclaimed that if she would come back and tell him her stories, he would make it so that she could sit in on his brother’s lessons. That way, she would get better at chess, and he would sate his curiosity. 

Brianne extended her hand and they shook on it. She ran after her father, already looking forward to coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my brother for letting me 1) Borrow his Inquisitor, 2) Enact my creative license on his Inquisitor, and 3) Send him my rough drafts at 11:30 at night and have them beta'd by the time I'm done at work the next day. Love you bro. Wonder twin powers, activate!


	5. Shield-Brothers And Spear Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Venatori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In heart's drumming I heard footsteps thund'ring  
> Shield-brothers and spear-sisters distant raised  
> Blade to shackle-bearer, valiant of spirit  
> Blazing like star-shine, to battle they charged.  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Despairs For Her People

Long after Fiona left the dining hall, Brianne realized she hadn’t shown the Grand Enchanter the latest rune she had completed. She mentally kicked herself. It would have come in handy while Fiona was away. Brianne promised herself the first thing she would do when Fiona returned was present her breakthrough. 

While Brianne had become an accomplished healer, just as her father knew she would, her true passion lay in magical theory. Her father and mother’s arguments on whether or not templar abilities should be considered magical spells had sparked an early curiosity towards how magic actually worked. Brianne had lived in two different circles since coming into her magehood, all with different First Enchanters, and none of them had ever approved Brianne for official study, research projects, or experiments on the different topics of magical theory, especially in regards to the true influence that magic holds over the physical, emotional, and spiritual world. Asking the questions _What is magic, really? _or _What are the limitations of magic? _only ever got her into a world of trouble, and many shouted accusations of Maleficar.____

The Rebel Mages, though, appreciated Brianne’s inquisitive mind and persistent spirit. She had been given leave to study whatever she felt like studying, and as long as she found materials and other resources on her own, she could do as many experiments as she wanted (granted they didn’t put anyone in danger and would somehow produce results profitable to mages in the near future.) Because of this, Brianne had been working with several of the Tranquil on creating new kinds of runes.

Brianne was currently obsessed with the practical. The Rebel’s initial worries about how Fiona might communicate quickly and effectively with a group spread over a large area got Brianne thinking. Why hasn't someone invented a spell or enchantment that might allow a person to communicate with someone else a great distance away from them? There were the fabled Chasind “fire messages” that the other mages had scoffed at, but they were proof to Brianne that communication, in some fashion, was achievable through magic. 

Through weeks of careful study, interviews with the few Dalish mages that would speak about cultural magic, and trial-and error crafting sessions with several of the Tranquil, Brianne had made a breakthrough. She had invented a spell, embedded it in two runestones, and had Jon enchant two rings. She had only tested them out once the night before, but they worked. She had intended on showing Fiona the items and their abilities later today. If she had known Fiona was leaving, she would have done it first thing this morning.

Brianne sighed and went back to her reading. She had walked down to Redcliffe Village after breakfast and met with Valera, the village’s healer. Early on in the mage’s occupation of Redcliffe Castle, Brianne went to the village to speak with the Ferelden woman who had helped save her life all those years ago, when she was a scared little girl on the run, but the human healer from almost eighteen years ago was gone. Valera, a young elvhen woman, had answered the door of the healer’s house. Valera was leery of mages, but after learning about the stockpile of herbs the mages had up in the castle, Brianne was welcome back anytime, as long as she remembered to bring something with her (elfroot was a particular favorite of Valera’s). Brianne usually made time at least twice a week to sit with the woman and talk about alchemy. It wasn’t Brianne’s forte, but she had a green thumb, and always loved finding people to talk with about the healing arts. The walk back to the castle in the bright noon-day sun had tired her out, and she was currently curled up in her room against the cool stone wall, proofreading a paper one of her peers had written.

Once she was finished, and had annotated to her heart’s content, Brianne stood and stretched her arms languidly. The sun was on its downward slope, and she decided to make her way to the dining hall. She’d find Enchanter Liathra there, return the paper, and have dinner in one fell swoop. 

Just as Brianne was entering the hallway, a dark spot flashed in the corner of her vision. Brianne stood frozen for a heartbeat, then immediately side-stepped back into her room. Her heart was thundering, and it felt as though an icy hand was tracing its way up her spine. 

One of the most important lessons Brianne had learned during her time dreaming at night was to listen to her instincts. The primal energy inside of everyone, the force that connects every living being to each other and the natural world, can take in and comprehend information faster than a person’s rational mind. By listening to that inner voice, that swelling of emotion that shouted DANGER! and RUN! through every fiber of her being, Brianne had escaped losing her life to demons countless times. Brianne wasn’t sure how that flash of darkness against the castle walls had alerted her to something being amiss, but she could feel a sense of wrongness, of foreboding, permeate her body. 

She stood paralyzed, hidden behind the door, frantically trying to decide what she should do, when she felt the world around her shift. Vertigo caused her to slump against the door, and the dark spot from earlier reappeared. She couldn’t draw breath enough to scream. Everything and nothing was moving, shifting and swaying, suction and force, wildfire and blizzard. She didn’t...she couldn’t...she was going to... 

Voices drifted down the hallway, and she opened her eyes.

She was lightheaded, which was probably a result of the heavy panting she was doing. The door was the only thing keeping her upright. She pried her hands off the handle and looked around in confusion. What had she been doing that she was in so much distress?

A child squealed in delight outside her doorway, and Brianne mentally shook herself. Glancing out the window, she saw there were still several hours until she had promised to meet Valera. Brianne remembered Enchanter Liathra asking for help on her latest batch of research this morning as they ate breakfast together. Brianne left her room in search of the Enchanter.

As she approached the end of the hallway, she heard a mighty crash and raised voices. Body pressed tightly to stone, she inched her way down the hall until she was at the open archway that led to the antechamber that connected the east and west wings of the castle with the dining hall. Aligning her body with the squat mabari statue that marked the ending of the east wing, Brianne slowed her breathing and began to listen. 

“What in Andraste’s name are you doing in my home?” shouted the Arl.

“Arl Teagan, is it?” a male voice replied, a baritone slightly gravelly with an accent Brianne couldn’t place. “I entered the way any person does, through the front door. I thought that was obvious when we broke it in.” Arl Teagan did not immediately respond, and Brianne could only imagine the look on his face. 

“Who are you and what is the meaning of this?” demanded Grand Enchanter Fiona.

There was a pause, and Brianne was certain that the man was studying Fiona. He didn’t seem like someone who was used to petite elvhen mages making imperious demands of him.

“You must be Grand Enchanter Fiona,” he finally replied. “I am here to speak with the leader of the Mage Rebellion, which would be you, if the stories are to be believed. Come, let us speak away from prying eyes and ears.”

Brianne heard the shuffling of boots on stone and almost bolted from her hiding place. Her instincts told her to stay put though, and it was a good thing she did.

Before anyone could go anywhere, Arl Teagan picked up speaking again. “I did not catch your name ser, but looking at your clothing and insignias, it seems a fair bet to say you hail from Tevinter. I do not believe that Ferelden has any kind of accord with Tevinter. There’s no need, what with all the countries that separate us. I would be privileged to that kind of information, as Queen Anora is a dear friend of my family. In fact, I have been meaning to write to her, maybe send her a raven. It is around the time I usually update her on the status of affairs in my arling. Perhaps she’d feel up to making a visit herself.”

Silence again, but this time one filled with the weight of shock and fury.

There was the sound of a harsh grunt and muffled shouts, and then the pounding of feet on stone. Brianne heard the mystery man say, in a cold, hard voice, “Arl Teagan. I am not visiting on behalf of my country, but everything that I do is for her benefit. You have not caught my name because I did not deem you worthy of it. All you need know is that a Magister of the Imperium is seizing control of your castle and the adjoining village. Guards, would you please escort the Arl to his old room to pack his things?” 

Peeking between the ears of the mabari statue, Brianne saw the Arl being manhandled down the west wing hallway. The Arl had a towering man attached to each arm. Trailing behind them was a robed mage. The Arl glanced over his shoulder as he disappeared down the corridor. He shot a murderous look to Fiona before he and his companion were out of sight. After the pair left, Brianne heard the Magister say, “Shall we, Grand Enchanter?” followed by more shuffling sounds. 

Right as the moving group became level with the adjacent hallways, Brianne stepped out into the antechamber. She forced herself to stumble to a stop, and looked at them with surprise and open curiosity. 

Fiona was alone with a large group of dark-clad individuals. A few wore the same robes as the mage that went with the Arl, while others wore lightweight leather armor. The rest were clad in heavy armor similar to what the templars wore. Each individual had their face covered, either with a cowl or a pointed, pike-shaped helmet. The Magister was the only individual who stood out from the group, his outfit consisting mostly of boiled, rust-colored leather. His face was uncovered, and Brianne was surprised to find that he looked as sinister as she assumed magisters were supposed to. 

Fiona gave her a tight smile and greeted her with a murmured, “Enchanter Brianne.” Brianne smiled and nodded in return, and went to make her way past the gathered group, but several of the Tevinter soldiers blocked her way. Brianne stopped and turned towards Fiona, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.

It was the Magister that responded, though. “Good morning, Enchanter. How are you enjoying your stay in Redcliffe?” 

Brianne affected a courtly laugh and smiled. “Ser, you make it sound as though I am visiting Ferelden on holiday. I am grateful for the generous accommodations that Arl Teagan has provided, and for the freedom of study my Grand Enchanter has allowed. There is not much to comment on beyond that.” 

Brianne looked at Fiona to gauge her reaction. The comment was a bit dry, and would have been considered unrefined when held to Val Royeaux standards. Ever inscrutable, Fiona continued with her tight smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkled for a second, as though a true smile was trying to work its way through the strained one.

The Magister frowned, as though not used to people responding to him in such a way, but before he could say anything, Fiona cut in. “Did you need anything from me, Brianne?

Brianne reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over the ring inside. She had left its pair in her room on accident this morning. She had intended to tell Fiona about the new rune she had created, but didn’t feel it was appropriate to be sharing her breakthrough right now. Inspiration struck, and she pulled the ring out.

“Yes, Grand Enchanter. Last night I had Jon reset the stone on your ring. He also attempted to refresh the enchantment that had been applied to it, but without a fresh runestone, it wasn’t successful. My apologies. At least it’s still lovely to look at.”

Fiona took the ring from Brianne with a polite nod and a quiet thank you for her efforts in helping her with that personal matter. Without hesitation, she slipped the ring onto one of the fingers on her right hand and bid Brianne good-day. 

Brianne could have kissed the woman.

It took all of Brianne’s willpower not to sprint away from the group. Brianne waited in the dining hall for a count of thirty deep breaths before turning and calmly heading back the way she came. She made her way to her room and found the pouch that contained the partner ring to the one she gave Fiona. Mentally crossing her fingers, Brianne slipped it on.

Closing her eyes and focusing on the connection to the magical energy that was always present, if sometimes unnoticed, she reached inside herself and carefully took hold of it. If pressed to explain the sensation to a non-mage, Brianne would have said it was like placing your hand in a slow-moving stream. You can feel the water moving, shifting around your hand to accommodate to the intrusion. It’s cool and soothing, but harmful if you leave your hand in for too long. You can cup your hands and remove some of the water from the larger stream to use. That was what Brianne was doing.

With utmost care, Brianne directed magical energy into the ring. The cold metal band warmed unnaturally quickly, and caused her to halt the flow of magic. Brianne did not want to startle Fiona, who was hopefully still wearing the companion piece. She also did not want to tip the Magister off that spellwork was being enacted in his presence. With her fear freshly renewed, Brianne returned to trickling her magic back into the ring, this time much more slowly.

Faintly, Brianne began to make out sounds being projected from the ring.

“...frightfully inappropriate...wards or....guests.”

“Magister, whatever you...most likely leftover...Tranquil attempted to restore...”

“...you are among friends...titles are superfluous. Call me…”

“That is very gracious of you, Magister Alexius, but…”

Brianne wanted to shout her frustration to the vaulted ceiling. What good were these rings if you couldn’t make out what the other person was saying? Deciding to take the risk, Brianne fed more energy into the ring.

“This is a golden opportunity, Fiona. You seek independence and authority. You seek equality and justice. You seek to make Magehood greater than it has ever been considered to be, south of the Imperium. I am offering you support: brother and sister mages ready to be your sword and shield, ready to give of themselves for your cause, ready to provide for you in all your endeavors.”

“Is that really what you are offering, Magister?”

“It is. With your ranks bolstered, the templars cannot stand against you.”

“It is not just the templars we are at war with. Mages in Ferelden and Orlais will never be safe if the fear and mistrust that command common _knowledge _is not rectified and disproved. My mages are in as much danger from villagers with prejudice as they are from templars with branding irons.”__

__In that moment, Brianne’s heart stopped beating. The roar of her own blood was in her ears, and a shallow, choked gasp escaped her. From far away she thought she heard Magister Alexius comment, but she could not understand what he had said._ _

__A vision of her father flashed before her sightless eyes. He smiled his lopsided grin at her and said, “A handful of kindness, Annie. That’s all it takes.”_ _

__Just as suddenly as the attack had overtaken her, it was gone._ _

__The Magister was still speaking. “Fiona my dear, I have been as polite as the situation warranted. You do not seem to have delicate sensibilities, so let me speak plainly. My organization is now in possession of this castle. If the mages want to stay here, they will swear fealty to us. If they do not, they must vacate the premise by nightfall. Which means you do not have time for your silly meetings. You are their leader. Lead them.”_ _

__Magister Alexius paused, and there was silence. Brianne wished she had been able to create a visual component to the runespell so she could see what was happening._ _

__“I urge you to make the right choice, Grand Enchanter. Stay where you are. We will help you make the mages into a force to be reckoned with. Do you know how many templars and demons we had to cut down before we reached the castle? I lost count, the number was so great. Has news reached you about what happened at Val Royeaux’s Summer Bazaar? The Lord Seeker publicly condemned The Chantry and swore that the might of the templars would raze the earth to destroy all mages. The Inquisition was there, and do you know what they did? Nothing. They stood by as helpless chantry officials were assaulted. They didn’t bat an eyelash at what was essentially the declaration of a Thedas-wide Annulment of all mages. No one is going to help you. No one is going to save you. You must save yourself.”  
__

__Brianne held her breath while she waited for Fiona’s response.__

__It never came._ _

__Brianne realized the ring wasn’t warm anymore. It was cool against her bare skin. Spitting out a curse, she shook the ring. Thoughtless of the consequences, she poured even more magic into it. The enchantment sparked to life again, but sputtered out after a second. Brianne realized that Fiona was keeping the ring from engaging fully with its pair. That was the only explanation for the feeling she had as the spell disengaged. It was like someone purposefully throwing ash on a hearthfire to smother it._ _

__Brianne sat in her room for a few more minutes, lost in thought. Her instincts were telling her to run. Pack a bag, chart a course, and flee. But what comes after? If the Magister spoke the truth, there was no one to turn to for help but Tevinter._ _

__What unsettled Brianne the most was Fiona keeping her ring from working. Fiona may not have been completely aware of what the ring was doing, but she should have trusted Brianne to be trying to help. Brianne decided to go back into the dining hall and wait for the Grand Enchanter to appear again. While she waited, she would devise a way to speak to Arl Teagan one last time._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering, her name is pronounced Bree-Anne (emphasis on the second syllable). I know she's been called Annie several times now, but it's not Bree-Annie, it's Bree-Anne.


	6. By Cruel Magic Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne's first manifestation of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None to return to the lands of their mothers  
> By cruel magic taken, ice, lightning, and flame.  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Despairs For Her People

Brianne laughed and ducked around the raven statue, staying just inches outside of Cal’s reach. He lunged again, and his fingers brushed through the bottom of her loose hair. It shone a dull gold in the afternoon sunlight, and she was grateful he didn’t try to grab a handful. The rules of the game were clear, but sometimes Cal and Caspian didn’t follow them. She shrieked and ducked around the other side of the statue, almost running face-first into the fountain.

“You’re going to let a girl outrun you?” goaded Caspian from the safety of the treetops. Even though he was almost nine years old compared to their six, Caspian still played with them. Cal said it was only because of Brianne. His older brother was always too busy to play when it was just him and Cal. Brianne thought that was one of the reasons Cal was always sending her messages to come over. Brianne couldn’t bring herself to be mad though. She’d take any excuse to run around the lush gardens of the Trevelyan estate.

Brianne made it to the apple tree where Caspian was currently hiding. She thought she’d have enough time to jump up to the lowest branch, but Cal was on her sooner than expected. He wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her away from the tree. Squealing like a stuck nug (though she’d never admit it), she flailed in his grasp, and he dropped her. He hadn’t lifted her far off the ground anyways, as they were about the same height and weight. 

Breathless with laughter and triumph, Cal started to say _You’re it! _when Caspian’s tutor came storming out of the house. He had a murderous look on his face, and hissed at them to quiet down. They were acting more like wild bears than small children, and the ruckus they were producing was going to upset Lady Trevelyan, and they all were aware of what a delicate state she was in.__

__Caldwell and Caspian looked deeply remorseful, but it was all Brianne could do not to roll her eyes at the tutor. Yes, Lady Trevelyan was days away from giving birth to her third child (which was the real reason Brianne and her father were visiting), but the woman was made of dawnstone. Brianne was certain that the only thing that would upset her was the tutor keeping her sons from something they wanted. Luckily, the man only glared for another second, huffed, and went back inside._ _

__Brianne watched him enter the house and caught a glimpse of her mother at the nearest window. Her mother was looking at her with an unreadable expression, and Lord Trevelyan was at her side. He had an open grin on his face, and said something that caused her mother to turn away from the window and back towards him._ _

__Brianne felt something behind her, and spun. Caspian had dropped down from the top of the apple tree and was brushing himself off. Brianne looked up at the tree and was briefly relieved that she hadn’t tried to climb it earlier._ _

__“I would have gotten you,” Cal said, walking over to his brother._ _

__“Nope. I was too far up. You’re too small.”_ _

__Cal turned red and looked up at the now empty treetop. Brianne knew Cal hated it when Caspian brought up his height. He wasn’t small at all for a six year old, or so both their parents said. Brianne’s father had spoken with Cal, telling him that girls grow faster for some reason. Both the Trevelyans were tall (Donovan exceptionally so), and Brianne’s father had assured the youngest Trevelyan that he had nothing to worry about. He would grown into a tall, strong man, just like his father._ _

__Caspian knew how to rile his brother up, though. With a shout, Cal launched himself at the apple tree and began scrambling up it. Caspian laughed as Cal struggled. Even so, and most likely because of it, Cal slowly made his way up the tree._ _

__When he reached the height just below where his brother was perched earlier, Caspian began to call Cal back. Brianne joined in praising Cal and telling him how impressed she was. He disappeared from sight for a moment, and Brianne assumed he was on his way back down._ _

__“Cal?” Caspian called, squinty up into the apple tree. “Cal? Where’d you go?”_ _

__Brianne heard a cracking sound and started walking around the tree. Caspian went around in the other direction, still calling out to his brother._ _

__“Over here,” Brianne said to Caspian. She spotted Cal on one of the thicker-looking branches much higher up than where he’d been a minute ago. Caspian ran over to her and began shouting at his brother._ _

__“Caldwell! Come on! You’ve made your point, now get down!”_ _

__Brianne could hear the fear in Caspian’s voice, and raised hers in a plea for Cal to come back down. Cal disappeared from view again, and Brianne’s heart leapt into her throat at another sharp, cracking sound._ _

__All of a sudden Cal was in a freefall through the air. He didn’t scream. The only sounds to be heard were the tree branch Cal had been standing on crashing through the leaves, and the harsh thud of his body hitting the ground._ _

__Brianne was on him in an instant. Caspian was shouting in the background, but she wasn’t paying attention. She checked to make sure he was breathing, and tried to remember everything she had learned from her father._ _

__“Cal, can you hear me? Can you roll onto your back?”_ _

__Caspian’s screams and cries had alerted the household. Brianne felt the tutor towering over her, shouting about stupid children and their stupid games. She heard footsteps, but didn’t tear her attention away from her friend. Cal had rolled over at her request, but his eyes were only half open, and he didn’t seem to be able to focus on her face. She moved her hands to hover over his elbow, where his arm was bent at an unnatural angle, but then stopped herself. She knelt there stupidly, realizing that without magic, she couldn’t really do anything._ _

__The tutor was still there, being incredibly unhelpful, and so was Caspian. When Brianne retracted her hands from where they had been hovering, Caspian grabbed them. He crushed them in his larger ones, and in a voice she’d never heard him use before, commanded, “Help him!”_ _

__Brianne felt tears prick her eyes as she said, “I can’t.”_ _

__Caspian shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth. “You said you were a healer-in-training! Heal him! This is all your fault!”_ _

__Brianne opened her mouth to ask how she had caused Cal to fall out of the tree, but Caspian shoved her. Hard. Thankfully, since she was still kneeling next to Cal, she didn’t have far to go before connecting with the ground. In the distance, she heard Donovan Trevelyan’s booming voice._ _

__None of it mattered, though. Her friend was hurt, and she was useless. She was a liar. A fake. She would lose the best friend she had, and her father would never let her go places with him again. Her mother would be embarrassed to call her daughter. A tear finally slipped loose, and she reached out her arm to place a hand on Cal’s forehead in a wordless good-bye._ _

__The world around her froze and her vision seemed to tunnel. Underneath her hand, she saw that Cal’s brain had slammed against the inside of his skull. It had shut down non-vital functions in order to recover. Brianne assured his body that it was doing the right thing, and coaxed it to happen a bit faster. His family was frightfully worried about him, and it would be best if he woke up quickly. She urged the shallow cut on his forehead to close. By the time she had traced her hand down to his elbow from his forehead, it had._ _

__She knew that she was still reclining on the ground. She knew that half the household had gathered around her and Cal. She could hear her mother and Lord Trevelyan barking out orders for people to back up, and her father was begging someone not to touch her, not to move them until Brianne was done. None of it mattered, though. Brianne was enthralled with what she could see, and all that she knew she could somehow do._ _

__She made herself focus. The ligaments that held Cal’s elbow joint together had been torn, leading to the unnatural angle of his forearm. His radius was fractured as well. Brianne wove the fine ligament fibers back together. It was almost like crocheting, which Brianne wasn’t half bad at, if you asked her mother. Once that was done, Brianne focused on Cal’s fracture. She was very tired, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Her friend was hurt, and somehow it was her fault._ _

__A lifetime later, she heard her father’s voice. “That’s enough Annie. You’ve done a good job, and it’s time to stop.”_ _

__“But…” she whispered back. There was still so much more she could do for her friend._ _

__She felt her father’s arms around her, and he softly lifted her hands from Cal. Her vision ballooned, and she cried out, ducking her face into her father’s chest._ _

__It was so comfortable there. If she could just close her eyes and rest, maybe this bad dream would be over sooner. She felt something cool touch her lips, and felt her chin being tilted back. Ice cold liquid was in her mouth, and she swallowed reflexively. She felt it travel down her throat and into her chest, where is blossomed into warmth. Her eyes popped open and she blinked rapidly to clear the haze from them._ _

__She was still in her father’s arms, and he was wearing a smile to rival the sun. Her mother was a few feet away, longsword in hand. The tip of the sword was in the dirt, though, and her mother looked as shocked as Brianne had ever seen her. Lord and Lady Trevelyan were kneeling in the dirt with their youngest son, who was sitting up as well, looking a bit dazed, but otherwise fine. Cal looked over at Brianne and sluggishly asked, “What happened?”_ _

__Lady Trevelyan choked out a laugh and hugged him to her. Lord Trevelyan, while still kneeling, hurled himself towards Brianne and her father._ _

__Brianne’s father tensed and threw up a barrier in the same second her mother launched herself towards them with her sword raised._ _

__All Donovan Trevelyan did, though, was grab the hands that had healed his son and drew them to his lips. He bent over them and whispered a desperate thanks that Brianne had saved his little boy._ _

__Brianne wanted to tell him that Cal hadn’t been in danger of dying. He had only broken his elbow. And conked his head. He would have been fine. She didn’t say any of that, however, only accepted his thanks and help up off the ground._ _

__The tension in the air dissipated after Donovan Trevelyan’s spectacle. He walked back over to his wife to help her stand up, and Brianne’s father joined him. Brianne’s mother sheathed her sword and turned towards young Caspian Trevelyan, who seemed to be hiding in the crowd with his tutor._ _

__Brianne was a bit light-headed, so she took a few steps towards the fountain and leaned against it. There was a raven perched on the curved ledge, and it turned its beady eyes towards her._ _

__“Well that was very dramatic,” it said._ _

__Brianne blinked at it, then turned her face towards the water in the fountain. Her reflection showed that she was taller. Her golden hair had darkened to the color of wheat fields. Her cheekbones were sharper, and dark circles had sunken into the space underneath her eyes._ _

__Brianne gave a hollow laugh and turned back towards the raven. “Believe me when I say I would have had it happen any other way.”_ _

__The raven squawked, and Brianne thought it was tsking her. “Believe me, Brianne, when I say you wouldn’t.”_ _

__Brianne spun in the opposite direction and began walking away from the raven. She reached the edge of the dream barrier before it caught up with her again._ _

__“Do not berate me for my regrets, Mouse,” Brianne said as she ran her hand through the shimmering barrier that separated her dream-memory from the rest of the fade. “You do not know what happened after.”_ _

__“Then tell me,” the raven-turned-man said as he stood next to her._ _

__Brianne bit back a harsh retort and looked back over her shoulder, towards her father. He had been so Maker-be-damned happy that his little girl was a mage. Look where being a mage had gotten her. And him._ _

__Yanking her thoughts away from that deep, dark place, Brianne faced Mouse._ _

__“I will one day, my friend,” she said. Mouse heaved a belabored sigh, but didn’t press her. He had been visiting her ever since her Harrowing. He had shared in her triumphs and failures, freely passed on advice and knowledge, yet there were still some things they kept from each other. No matter how willing she was to call him friend, he was still a spirit, and she a mortal. Circle teachings ran deep._ _

__“What shall you dream of next, then? If we will not talk of things that obviously need to be talked about, the least you can do is entertain me.”_ _

__Brianne smiled at him. “I do want to talk with you. What can you tell me about the Venatori?”_ _


	7. Wounded I Fell Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne goes about a regular day under Venatori occupation, and completes a favor that ends in a pleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should for all seasons laments ring the sky-vaults,  
> Should dirges all sages and histories replace?  
> By gods forsaken, fate emptied of hope,  
> Wounded I fell then, by grief arrow-studded,  
> Never to heal, death for me come.  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Despairs For Her People

Mouse had nothing to tell Brianne about the Venatori. He did, however, have a wealth of knowledge about Tevinter and its Magisterium. Brianne learned about the hierarchy of power and how mages moved throughout it. She learned about the politics of the country. She was used to the dynamics of Orlais, where perception and appearances were everything. In Orlais, a noble family could be bankrupt and destitute, but if they played The Game well and had the favor of the Court, their standing was secure. In Tevinter, those in power were where they were simply because they had the most power (and a faulty moral compass). 

Mouse had promised to keep his eyes and ears open in the Fade for any information, past or present, about the group that called themselves the Venatori. It had been weeks, though, since Brianne had first met with the spirit, and nothing new had surfaced. Every night Brianne fell asleep desperately hoping that Mouse would have something to tell her that might help the Mages out of their current situation.

Brianne looked up from the table she was sitting at in the dining hall. During mealtime, the dining hall used to echo with the laughter of children and voices of scholars animatedly discussing their work. Now there was silence, broken only by whispers and the occasional clang of cups or utensils. Venatori agents lined the room and guarded the door. Venatori were stationed everywhere throughout the castle. They lined the hallways and entrances to every room, even those unused. There were twenty in the courtyard at all times, and many more walking the ramparts. The one time Brianne managed to find an excuse to be working in one of the taller towers, she looked out the window and saw a trail of Venatori leading from the castle’s gates down to the village. 

Magister Alexius claimed they were only there for protection. He had addressed them several times over the last few weeks. Each meeting consisted of a monologue about the dangers outside the castle, reinforcing the idea that the rebels were destitute, and painting glorified images of the utopia of the Tevinter Imperium: a haven for mages; a land where the superior species reined; a counrty welcoming to those seeking shelter and those that would continue to exalt her. 

After each meeting, Branne saw more and more mages disappear for days at a time, only to reappear wearing Venatori robes.Those mages were her friends, and now they would not even look her in the eye. Brianne lived in fear that one morning she would wake up to find that she was the last mage in the castle not to have joined this Tevinter cult. 

Brianne finished her breakfast and left the dirty flatware on the table. Once everyone was done eating, slaves would clean the dining hall, kitchen, and all the dishes. Brianne refrained from glancing at the ones that stood up by the stew pot ladling out hot breakfast grains. Brianne learned early on that she couldn’t look at a slave and keep her composure. Her self-imposed training failed her in some way, for every time the slave would react to whatever look was in her eyes. Some slaves would blush and lower their gaze farther to the ground. Some would lift their chin upwards, as if daring her to speak her mind aloud. Those ones were proud of what they had accomplished in life, and their display only worked to deepen Brianne’s horror.

The whole situation was heavily sardonic, for Brianne herself was no better than a slave to the Venatori. All mages who hadn’t joined them were. They were housed together, always under careful scrutiny. The converted Venatori agents could come and go as they pleased, were given leisure time and honorifics. The Rebels that had yet to join, that swore they never would, had all rights stripped. If any agent demanded something of Brianne, she had to oblige. If she didn’t, the Venatori agent was well within their right to punish her, or forcibly take what they wanted. Brianne knew this because she was always the one called to heal those hurt in any altercation. 

Nothing catastrophic had happened to Brianne yet due to the fact that she had become the resident healer. Brianne hadn’t officially earned the title of Senior Enchanter before her time at the White Spire came to an end, but had been treated as an honorary one both there and at Kinloch. Her mastery of the school of Creation at such a young age had earned her a reputation. Since she had joined the Rebels, mages from both Ferelden and Orlais had been coming to her for tinctures, potions, salves, and healing sessions. She had cured headaches, heartburn, and sunburns, had healed sliced fingers, broken bones, and crushed cartilage. 

Brianne was certain that it was the converted Venatori agents that had outed her to Magister Alexius. Even though Brianne swore a personal oath to treat any that came to her for aid, she had decided to hide her skills from the Magister. Her resolve crumbled, however, when she was held at knifepoint and ordered to to heal one of the scouts that had come back from a patrol one night particularly bloodied up.  
Brianne did the bare minimum of what was asked of her, and so far it had been enough to keep her safe.

Brianne made her way down the west wing corridor and up a flight of stairs to the arl’s suite. After Magister Alexius had been told of Brianne’s skill as a healer, she had been given a weekly assignment that she was not allowed to shirk. If Brianne was being honest with herself, it was one of the only bright spots in her week, though the feeling was soured every time she ascended to the guest bedroom of the arl’s suite and a full retinue of Venatori soldiers fell in step behind her.

The door of her patient’s room was open, but Brianne waited out in the hallway while one of the soldiers announced her. She heard her patient’s soft, masculine voice from inside the room, and entered once the soldier beckoned her to.

Her patient was seated by an open window that looked out over the courtyard. The breeze ruffled Brianne’s robe and caused the paper in her patient’s lap to flutter to the ground. He didn’t make a move to pick it up, though. His eyes stayed closed, face turned towards the weak sunlight streaming in.

“Leave us,” the seated man ordered the soldiers.

The soldier that had announced her presence shifted his feet, but no one made a move to exit. It was the same song and dance that happened every week, and Brianne waited patiently, hiding her smile by walking over to her patient and kneeling on the floor beside him.

After a tense moment of silence, her patient finally turned towards his bodyguards. His normally warm brown eyes were cold as he spoke. “You have until the end of the next three breaths I take to vacate my room. If you are still here, I will forcibly remove you myself.”

The room was empty in one breath. Brianne heard the door click shut as she reached for her patient’s right hand and began to roll up his sleeve to put her fingers on his pulse point. 

Once they were alone, he seemed to deflate. He slumped back in his chair, sighed heavily, and shut his eyes. Brianne gave him the time he needed to compose himself. Meanwhile, she counted the pulses of blood beneath her fingertips and traced its flow with her mind’s eye. 

Nothing had changed much since last she checked on him. He had a new callus forming on the pointer finger of his dominant hand. She left that alone. The muscles around his left knee were stiff and tender, most likely from being in one position for too long. She sent a pulse of soothing magic there, and frowned at his body’s slow reaction time. He was still weaker than she would have liked, his body attempting to fight off a cold while already compromised. She siphoned a bit of her magic into his bloodstream, speeding up his own natural healing process.

Normally, she would only do this for children or elderly patients whose natural healing processes were underdeveloped or compromised, but this was why Magister Alexius himself had decreed Brianne would play personal nursemaid to this man. This was what she was here for.

Her patient shivered violently and gave a half-hearted cough. Brianne looked up and saw him grinning down at her.

“I don’t think you realize how much that tickles,” he said. “Maybe tickle isn’t the right word. More like...tingle. I can feel the inside of my body tingling. It’s extraordinary. What are you doing, Enchanter?”

“You’ve caught a cold. I’m helping your body fight it off, Altus Alexius.”

Her patient rolled his eyes dramatically. “For the love of Tevinter, Enchanter, please don’t call me that. Felix will do, as I’ve said before.”

Brianne merely smirked and nodded her head in acknowledgement. This was their game, their banter. She suspected that he appreciated someone not rolling over in fear of him, or by proxy, his father. She also made sure not to treat him like spun sugar. In everyone’s eyes, Felix’s illness seemed to overshadow how powerful of a mage he still was.

He was also the kindest soul Brianne had come into contact with since this Venatori mess began. 

Brianne jerked involuntarily when her magic came into contact with a different sickness in Felix. She was almost done ridding him of his cold, her magic slowly leaving his body so as not to shock his system, when there it was. Oily and noxious, she could almost feel it on her skin, taste it in her mouth. She fought the urge to gag and continued to remove her magic from Felix’s body. This was why she kept coming back every week, why she kept helping the son of the man who was destroying the Rebel Mages from the inside out. Felix was tainted. She had known before he was comfortable telling her the whole story, reliving how he and his mother had been ambushed by darkspawn outside of Carastes, reliving how he had fought for his life as his mother fell beside him. The scared little girl inside of Brianne had reached out to a kindered spirit and connected. 

As a healer and scholar, the taint also fascinated Brianne. She had been at Kinloch when the Warden-Commander of Ferelden had taken Ceridwen Amell away. Even from across the room she had sensed something wrong in the Warden’s blood, but it wasn’t until Gwen had returned to free the Circle that she got a better sense of what tainted blood meant, to Wardens, Darkspawn, and civilians. 

Felix’s hand covered hers and she jerked her gaze to meet his. 

“Enchanter Brianne, might I ask a favor of you?” Felix accompanied his request with a suave grin.

Brianne was reminded of how handsome Felix could be if his skin wasn’t so sallow, his eyes less sunken in, or his voice a touch stronger. He had a few days worth of dark stubble on his chin, as though he didn’t have the energy or willpower to deal with it. 

“What can I do for you, Altus?”

Felix seemed to bite back a retort at his title, and instead ushered her to take a seat in the chair opposite him. Brianne had almost forgotten that she was still kneeling on the floor.

“When was the last time you set foot outside this castle?” he asked her.

Brianne had to take a second to calculate. “I visited Valera, Redcliffe’s healer, the day you arrived…” a sharp pain shot through Brianne’s head, causing her to pause. “I mean...no...I had planned to do that, but I didn’t. When I went to leave the castle later in the afternoon I was stopped.” Felix looked contrite, but she waved off his guilt. “Please, Altus, I know none of this is your doing. I do not hold it against you.”

“It feels like you’re holding it against me when you won’t call me Felix,” he grumbled, but she felt the teasing of it. “How would you like to go to the village today?”

“I...wouldn’t mind.” 

“You wouldn’t mind,” he repeated, weakly chuckling. “There is a letter I need delivered, but as you know, Father has everyone’s mail read. I believe he reads mine personally. I have secured a private carrier and arranged for them to be in the The Gull and Lantern by dusk tonight. I was hoping I could sweet talk you into delivering it to them.”

Brianne took a moment to savor the image of walking freely down the road.

“Altus, I would love to have an excuse for a change of scenery, but I am not technically a member of the Venatori. They will not let me leave castle grounds. I am too valuable a tool for them to risk my escape.”

Before Brianne could continue, Felix stood from his chair. He strode purposefully over to the door and flung it open. The resounding crash of it slamming against the wall echoed down the corridor, and four soldiers came running.

“Enchanter Brianne, would you come here please?”

Brianne joined him in the open doorway.

“You there,”Felix pointed at the closest soldier. “You will escort the Enchanter to the village tavern.”

The soldier opened his mouth, but Felix cut him off with a harsh, “In five minutes,” and shut the door in the man’s face. He then walked over to the desk tucked into the corner of the room and retrieved a neatly folded letter that he handed to Brianne. He covered her hand with his when she went to take the letter from him. “I do not have the words to explain how grateful I am to have someone I can trust.”  
Brianne smiled and squeezed his hands in return, unable to conjure up the words to match a return of the sentiment.

Felix’s door opened and the soldier from earlier stomped in. “Altus Alexius…” he began, in a stern voice.

Felix turned towards him, and with a cold smile responded, “Wonderful, you’re ready to go. So is the Enchanter. Make sure to have her back before complete nightfall. She’s a valuable asset to us, and you would hate to see what my father does to those who don’t protect his assets.” With that, he ushered Brianne and the soldier out into the hallway, and shut the door. 

It was an uneventful walk down to the village. The Venatori soldier took Felix at his threat, and recruited half a dozen other agents to “guard” Brianne as she delivered “a message of importance, by order of the Magister.” Brianne had wanted to point out that the task was for Felix, not his father, but then decided that if that was the message the soldier had taken from Felix’s warning, so be it.

The road to the village was barren. She saw evidence of fighting in the damaged vegetation and broken structures around her. For several long minutes Brianne entertained the idea that the Venatori were right. The world is falling to pieces. What if mages are being attacked on sight? What can even be done to fix what has gone wrong?

Brianne shook herself out of her melancholy once they got to the outskirts of the village. Her entourage passed by the seemingly abandoned Chantry. What few people were out in the streets in the upper part of the village skirted to the edges of walkways or ducked inside shops as they passed. No one made eye contact with either her or the Venatori. They made it to the Gull and Lantern in record time.

Only two soldiers followed her inside the tavern, the rest posting themselves outside. Brianne realized, as they were leaving the castle, that Felix said the carrier would meet her at dusk. Brianne had gone to Felix after eating breakfast, and they couldn’t have spent much time on his weekly check-up. She still had half the day to wait, and her guards didn’t know that.

Reaching deep for courage and fortitude, Brianne walked purposefully up to the bar. She felt the guards at her heels, but they didn’t stop her. She gracefully lowered herself onto the first open barstool she saw, and ordered some ale. She cheekily offered to purchase some for her guards, but their faces remained stoic and unimpressed. 

From her right, she heard a man speaking. “I don’t blame you gentlemen for turning down Ferelden ale, but I hate seeing a beautiful woman drinking alone. Might I join you, my lady?”

Brianne turned towards the voice and saw a tall, handsome man in a beautiful traveling cloak leaning against the closest wooden support pillar. Brianne had no idea how she’d missed him when she first walked in. 

Her guards tensed and rudely told the man to shove off. He gave them a wicked smile reminiscent of Felix’s and said something in what sounded suspiciously like Tevene. Her guards seemed to tense even further until he extended his hands, seemingly to adjust the buckles on his sleeves. The motion showed off the gleaming ring he was wearing on his left hand, and Brianne recognized the practiced movement for what it was. Something came over both her guards, as they automatically backed off and backed up, retreating almost to the door to give Brianne and this man a level of privacy. 

The stranger seemed not to take notice of any of it, settling next to Brianne and gracing her with a charming grin. An ale had been placed in front of her. Her new compatriot turned to the barkeep and asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have an Antivan red anywhere in your cellar, would you my good ser?” 

The bartender said no (seeming insulted, for some reason), and the man sighed and ordered “whatever heathen drink the lady is having.”

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘You will catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?’” Brianne asked.

The beautiful man in the beautiful cloak laughed heartily and commented, “That is Orlesian thinking at its finest. Are you from Orlais? I don’t detect an Orlesian accent, but who knows, you could be a world-weary traveler, vacationing in the heart of the wild Ferelden Hinterlands.”

Brianne began to fiddle with Felix’s letter as she thought of the best way to answer the question without giving herself away as a mage. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the man freeze. Slowly, he began to reach for the letter in her hands.

Brianne slipped it into the pocket of her cloak and leveled her gaze at the stranger sitting next to her. “My apologies ser, but that is a private matter. To answer your question: I most recently hail from Val Royeaux, although I spent most of my life elsewhere. What brings you to Redcliffe Village? I feel as though you are visiting as well.”

The man scoffed. “Yes, a most unfortunate of forced holidays, also due to private matters. And please, there are no knights, chevaliers, or Ferelden doglords here. Let us dispense with titles, Brianne.”

It took all her willpower not to throw up a barrier and run. Brianne hid her shock as best she could, and sweetly said, “I am at a disadvantage. How is it that you know me, when I am certain that I would remember a man such as yourself?”

The beautiful man threw back his head and laughed again. Brianne was irritated that she found him so endearing and attractive.

“Leave it to Felix to find someone like you in this nightmare. Allow me to introduce myself: Dorian Pavus, at your service.” He reached out and lifted Brianne’s right hand off the bartop and bowed low over it. “And I know who you are because of Felix. You are his savior and his confidant, and I am here to help the both of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out. I wrote a good chunk of it sitting in front of the tv on Nov. 8th, slowly watching my country go to hell in a handbasket. I lost a lot of joy and hope, and couldn't find it again for a while. When I finally did, I finished writing this. 
> 
> Also, if anyone is wondering how to pronounce Ceridwen, it's CARE-uh-gwen. Hence why Brianne calls her Gwen. I LOVE that name! It's my go-to female protagonist name when games let me pick.


	8. Eyes Sorrow-Blinded, In Darkness Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of Brianne's traumatic past is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Brianne is going to go through an emotionally and physically traumatic event as a child (nothing sexual). Please feel free to skip this chapter if you want. I will leave a more detailed chapter summary in the end notes, so you won't miss anything if you read it.

Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken  
There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.  
\--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

Brianne watched as her mother packed away her dresses. She didn’t have too many of them, but it was still surreal watching all of them being hung carefully in a travel-trunk. Her slippers were next, those fitting perfectly into the bottom of the dress trunk. Once it was full, her mother moved it into the hallway along with the growing pile of possessions Brianne would not be able to take to the Circle. Her mother would take everything to the Chantry later in the week where it would be donated to the needy. She turned back to the rucksack she was currently trying to fill, fighting tears that threatened to break free. She heard her father’s whispered _Oh, Annie... _as his arms came around her in a comforting hug.__

__“It’s a good thing, ” her mother said. “Your things might help clothe someone else. A little girl just like you might get a Satinalia present for the first time this year. Remember, the Chantry teaches us not to tie ourselves to worldly possessions.”_ _

__She heard her father snort softly into her hair, but he didn’t say anything. She smiled at the glare her mother shot her father, which grew even larger when he swept her mother up in his arms and gave her a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. Her mother called him a menace, and they both went back to what they were doing before._ _

__Brianne put another article of clothing in her rucksack under her father’s careful scrutiny. He had the most knowledge about what she needed to bring with her when she moved to the Circle tomorrow morning. After he had removed her stuffed druffalo and watercolor kit, she finally began taking packing seriously. It was hard thinking about what she really needed, but she was trying her best. Her father hadn’t needed to take anything out of her rucksack in a while, so she must be doing a better job than she was before._ _

__“Nolin, help me move these to the front entrance,” her mother asked, picking up a trunk and bag and heading down the hall. Her father picked up three bags and followed. Brianne stayed in the room, listening to her parents talking as they worked._ _

__“Everything is going to be fine, Nolin.”_ _

__“You can’t know that. She’s already going to be treated differently because she’s our daughter. She already doesn’t have many friends, Annika. It’s only going to get worse.”_ _

__“Annie is a happy little girl. She gets along with everyone she meets.”_ _

__“But she doesn’t make _friends. _Not like what she has with the Trevelyan boy. They aren’t going to let him see her. They might not even let _me _see her, for fear of favoritism. I can’t bear the thought of the spark being beaten out of our little girl.”_____ _

______“Don’t be so melodramatic. They will let you check in on your only daughter, I’m sure of it. And if they don’t, I can keep an eye on her. I also think you’re underestimating her. Annie knows how to get what she wants. I’ll bet that within a year she’ll have all the other apprentices figured out, on top of most of the enchanters in charge of them. And since when have you let a few rules keep you from doing what you felt you needed to do? She learned it from someone, and it sure wasn’t me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Both her parent walked back into the room then, and Brianne tried to look like she had been doing something other than eavesdropping. Her mother walked over to her and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re almost done, baby,” she said softly. “You hungry?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne shook her head no._ _ _ _ _ _

______Her mother pursed her lips. “You’re gonna need a good dinner if you want a good night’s sleep. What do you feel like eating?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne didn’t respond, just kept putting items into the bag in front of her._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s father, from somewhere behind them said, “Well I feel like having boiled druffalo liver.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No!” Brianne shouted, dropping the pair of socks that was in her hand and turning towards him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What do you say, Mama? If Annie isn’t hungry, and doesn’t know what she wants, I should get to pick.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Papa!” Brianne exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips and making a face. “Not druffalo liver.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, what do you want then?” her mother asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne looked down at her feet and didn’t say anything. Her mother dropped down on one knee and asked, “What’s wrong baby?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not a baby,” Brianne said, still staring at her feet._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, you’re not. So use your words and tell me what you’re thinking.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne stood in silence for another few seconds while her mother waited patiently. Finally, Brianne whispered, “Brie tart.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her mother blinked at her for a moment, before repeating, “Brie tart?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Where have you eaten that before?” her father asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne smiled at the memory of walking into the Trevelyan’s parlor earlier that day. Her father had moved on to Lady Trevelyan’s quarters, her mother had followed Lord Trevelyan into his study, and Brianne had stayed rooted to the spot until Cal had told her what the smell was that was in the air. The cook had begun baking a brie tart for the guests to eat after they were done conducting their business with the family. The tart had smelled wonderful, and Brianne had been looking forward to trying it. After she healed Cal, her parents had whisked her out of the Trevelyan estate as quickly as they could without seeming rude, and Brianne hadn’t gotten to eat a bite of it. She was terribly disappointed._ _ _ _ _ _

______She said as much to her father, who promptly started laughing. Brianne scowled and started to turn back to the half-full rucksack sitting on her bed, but Brianne’s mother grabbed her up in a hug._ _ _ _ _ _

______“If my baby wants brie tart on her last day at home, then she’ll get brie tart.” With that, she dropped Brianne on her bed and strode past her shocked husband._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mama!” Brianne shouted after her. “It’s okay. You don’t hafta!”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s father had followed her mother out the bedroom door, but returned a few moments later without her mother. “Where’s Mama?” Brianne asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s going to the Market Plaza. We don’t have any brie, and someone wants to have a brie tart for dinner,” her father teased._ _ _ _ _ _

______“She didn’t hafta,” Brianne said quietly, jarred back into melancholy._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s okay Annie. Mama wants to. She wants your last day at home to be really special,” her father reassured her._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne reached into her rucksack and fiddled with the edge of her favorite blanket. “I really can’t come back and visit sometimes?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her father came and sat next to her on the bed. “No Annie. I’m sorry. You have to go live at the Circle. You’ll stay there until you pass your Harrowing. Once you’ve done that, you might be able to come home and visit me and you mother sometimes.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But you don’t hafta live in the Circle!” Brianne complained._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re right, I don’t. But I did for a very long time. Once I became a Senior Enchanter, I was allowed to leave on business for the Circle. I was given permission to live outside of the tower when you were born. Mama needed help taking care of you, and she’s a big, scary templar, so the Circle trusted that I wouldn’t do anything funny with her around.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So why can’t I stay? I won’t do anything funny around Mama too,” Brianne promised._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s father threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t Annie, but it’s not safe. You need to be with other mages. You need to be near teachers that’ll help you learn all the things you need to know, and you need to be near templars that’ll keep you safe. Remember Annie, not everyone likes mages. If you’re in the Circle, you won’t have to worry about bad people coming after you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne was silent for a second, then asked, “When do I do the Harrow-thing?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Harrowing. And you’ll go through it when you’re ready.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“When did you do it?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“A few days before my twentieth birthday. I was one of the last apprentices of my age-group to take my Harrowing. Some went through it as early as sixteen. Those are rare, though. It usually happens around your eighteenth birthday, but they won’t make you do it until they think you’re ready.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Until who thinks I’m ready? she asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Your teachers,” her father responded. “And the Circle’s First Enchanter.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I get to meet Dabney!” Brianne cried._ _ _ _ _ _

______Her father chuckled. “Yes Annie, First Enchanter Dabney will meet with you several times before your Harrowing. He’ll likely be there to greet you when you move to the Circle tomorrow. He loves keeping in touch with the apprentices. Keeps him feeling young, or so he says.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______There was pounding on what sounded like the front door, and Brianne’s father frowned. He told her to stay put as he exited the room. Moments later, Brianne heard loud voices. None of them sounded like her father, so she snuck as quietly as she could down the hallway and perched at the top of the stairs. She had a perfect view of the front door, which was halfway open. There seemed to be several men outside. They were wearing noblemen clothing, and Brianne wondered if they was someone hurt that her father needed to help._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I know she’s in there!” the man at the front of the group shouted, and kicked at the front door. It flew out of her father’s hand, and the group swarmed into the house._ _ _ _ _ _

______Her father was using his best Senior Enchanter voice, commanding the men to leave, but they were ignoring him. Brianne saw that two of the four had bottles in their hands. One of them was spilling liquid as he strode around the living room._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You have no right to come into my home,” her father demanded._ _ _ _ _ _

______The leader got right in her father’s face and yelled, “An’ you have no righ’ tuh hide a mage from the templars!” Brianne could see spittle flying from the man’s mouth. “We know! We heard there wuz another mage bitch in town.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Use her freaky mage pow’rs to hur’ young Mas’er Tre--Trevyl---Tevelyan,” one of the men with the bottles slurred._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s father went deathly quiet. Brianne knew what that meant, and braced herself for her father’s fury._ _ _ _ _ _

______But he only took a deep breath and repeated, “Get. Out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh we’ll leave,” the leader said, “An’ we’ll be draggin’ that bitch out by her hair. Fin’ her boys.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s father reached out and grabbed the leader by the arm, and the man let out an unmanly scream and lashed out with his other arm. He landed a solid punch to her father’s face. Brianne must have made some kind of involuntary noise, because all of a sudden she had four, drunken noblemen staring up at her hiding place._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hah!” one of the men holding a bottle shouted._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Run Annie!” her father shouted past his bleeding nose._ _ _ _ _ _

______She turned and sprinted down the hallway, but stopped outside of her room. She realized that there was nowhere she could hide where they wouldn’t find her. Her best bet would be to run to a neighbor’s house. She could jump out one of the windows, but they were really high up, and she didn’t want to hurt herself._ _ _ _ _ _

______She had wasted too much time thinking, for all of a sudden she felt two arms come around her in a vice-grip. “Gotcha,” the man said, his breath smelling sour as it floated down from above her head. She screamed and started thrashing in his grip as he turned them both back to the stairway. She heard her father shout her name from below, but she focused all her energy on getting out of the man’s hold.  
Her struggling was worse than useless. The man was four times her size, and even inebriated, he still easily maneuvered them both to the top of the stairwell. _ _ _ _ _ _

______Fear was a living thing inside of her. It clawed its way out her throat, left ice trailing through her veins. Her breath left her lips in frosty puffs, and it took Brianne a minute to realize they weren’t descending the staircase. She heard a muffled noise and glanced up. The man was frozen solid. His eyes were wide with shock. She could tell he was trying to say something, but his lips were frozen shut. Brianne was able to literally slip from his arms and catapult herself down the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s father was backed up to the fireplace with two of the men taking turns swinging at him. Or, attempting to swing at him. None of their hits were landing, as her father was using one of their chairs as a pseudo-shield. Brianne only spared half a second to wonder why he wasn’t using his magic while she sprinted past them, diving past the final man stationed by the front door._ _ _ _ _ _

______She thought she was in the clear until a sharp pain shot from the top of her head down her neck. She was yanked off her feet, falling backwards, and slammed into the ground. She lay there wheezing, and she heard one of the men say, “Wha’ did uh tell ya boys? By. The. Hair.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The same man grabbed her by the arm and lifted her up so that she was almost standing. She doubled over and bit the hand that held her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Fuckin’ cunt!” the man screamed, and backhanded her._ _ _ _ _ _

______Black spots filled her vision and her ears were ringing, but she still heard her father bellow her name. All of a sudden, there was a thunderclap with no sound, and the man was thrown away from her. All of the men were thrown back, and her father was there. His clothes were stained with blood and his eyes were wild, but in that moment Brianne could have cried from how happy she was to see him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t want to see this,” Brianne said from farther down the road. She was standing in the perfect spot to witness it all. Neighbors had come out of their houses. Some were leaning out of second story windows. Her mother had rounded the street corner with her sword drawn. Behind her was their old neighbor, Fritz, who had run to get help. Three houses down in the other direction, a group of templars were approaching. They had been on patrol, and one of them had sensed the accidental Winter’s Grasp Brianne had cast on her captor._ _ _ _ _ _

______She looked back at her father, crouched over her six-year-old form. She saw in slow motion the knife that was pulled out of Lord Galliston’s boot. She saw him approach her father from behind. She heard her mother screaming from down the street, knowing she wouldn’t make it in time._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Close your eyes Annie,” she said to her past self, a single tear trailing down her cheek._ _ _ _ _ _

______She heard the wet, slurping sound of Lord Galliston’s knife entering through her father’s spinal cord and exiting through his jugular. She smelled the hot, copper tang of his blood as it poured out of him. She saw the moment the life left his eyes and he collapsed forward in front of his daughter._ _ _ _ _ _

______She remembered being shocked, as a child. Denial quickly followed, as her six-year- old self reached forward and tried to heal her father. The group of templars reached the melee first. Two of them rounded up the drunken Galliston brothers, and the other silenced her. Her mother charged head-first into him, but Brianne was still left gasping and shaking on the ground next to her dead father, his blood creating a halo around her hair._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why am I reliving this?” adult Brianne asked. “What is the use of this!” she shouted out into her dream._ _ _ _ _ _

______She saw Lord Galliston and his brothers, talking with the templars. She heard him weave a tale of Civic Duty: the three brothers had unearthed a Blood Mage that had attacked them when confronted. The man had infiltrated the high ranks of the Circle, and was training his progeny to follow in his footsteps. Brianne didn’t need to look at the templars to remember how easy it was for them to believe the noblemen. It hadn’t mattered how long they had known Senior Enchanter Nolin. It hadn’t mattered how many lives he’d saved, how many families he’d helped. Everyone had turned on him, eventually._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s blood boiled with Rage. How dare those men sully her father’s name. How dare they destroy the life he had planned for himself and his family._ _ _ _ _ _

______The ground blackened around Brianne’s feet, and flames licked her skin. She took several steps towards the templars and noblemen. This was her dream, after all. This wasn’t reality. She could find a measure of peace here. A moment of Retribution. She continued on towards the group until a voice interrupted her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s a shame there’s no fountain or mirror for you to look into. I thought that was a reoccurring theme for you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne looked around until she spotted Mouse in the crowd of onlookers. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Puzzled, Brianne looked down at her hands to see her fingers had become pointed. Her skin also seemed to be melting off her muscles, only to be replaced with something else. Brianne screamed and began thrashing around, as though she could shake all of it off of herself._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mouse was in front of her a moment later, quietly shushing her and reminding her to “think peaceful thoughts.” Brianne thought of her mother braiding her hair. She thought of the look on her father’s face when she came into her magic. She thought of watching her mother and father dance by the fireplace while Brianne sang along, curled up in their bear-skin rug._ _ _ _ _ _

______The heat dissipated and Brianne looked down. She was back to normal again, with a smiling Mouse in front of her and a pissed off Rage demon to her right._ _ _ _ _ _

______The demon bellowed, but Mouse simply rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers, and poof! the demon was gone._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne raised an eyebrow at Mouse, but he only shrugged and said, “I have a history with Rage demons.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Regardless, thank you.” Brianne said._ _ _ _ _ _

______Mouse smiled. “So, this is the past you wouldn’t tell me about, isn’t it?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne nodded._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“There’s nothing left to talk about,” she responded. “If you saw from the beginning, there’s nothing else to know.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I meant _feelings _, Brianne. Would you like to talk about your _feelings _?”_____ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Not particularly.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Mouse made a tsking noise. “If you did, it would be less likely that a demon would try to use this memory and the emotions associated with it against you. If you don’t want to speak with me, that’s fine. But speak with someone about it, or this might happen again.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne worried her bottom lip while she thought. She didn’t have anyone else to talk to, other than Felix. She felt safe enough to share this with him, but didn’t think he’d truly understand. Templars, Circles, and Free Marcher politics had never had any kind of impact on his life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne worked up enough emotion to give Mouse a tepid, albeit genuine, smile. “I will speak with someone. Just, not right now. It’s…” she paused and glanced back at her mother, crying over the body of the man she loved. “...too fresh a wound,” she finished._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Mouse nodded his acceptance and began to entertain her with stories from his travels through the dreams of Venatori soldiers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brianne dreams of the day her father died. The dream picks up hours after Brianne healed Caldwell Trevelyan when they were children. Brianne, her mother, and her father are at their house packing up Brianne's things for her to move to the Circle tower tomorrow morning. Her mother leaves the house to get groceries for making dinner. While she's gone, a group of noblemen barge into the house. They are drunk and want to drag Brianne to the Circle immediately. A fight ensues, the outcome of which is Brianne's father being stabbed in the back after one of the men assaults Brianne. It is then revealed that adult Brianne has been watching her dream from the sidelines, and she becomes enraged. Mouse shows up, and with his help she keeps herself from succumbing to the Rage demon that was trying to trick her.


	9. An Ocean of Sorrow Does Nobody Drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne and Magister Alexius have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,  
> An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.”  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

The doors of the Gull and Lantern opened with a prolonged creak. The harsh winter wind took the opportunity to shoot inside the tavern. Brianne stepped out of the establishment and quickly shut the door behind her, blocking off the chorus of upset, chilly patrons. She threw the hood of her cloak over her head to protect her ears and double checked that Dorian’s note was safely tucked away inside the hidden pocket of her robe. With that completed, she began the slow ascent back to Redcliffe castle.

She kept her gaze forward as she walked the path through the village. Nothing had changed since she’d last been in town, save for the frost that was beginning to coat everything in sight. 

Fereldens were hardy folk. Young boys and girls still played outside. Dockside merchants donned thick, fur-lined coats and gloves and still hawked their wares. Friends and families still met by the Ferelden Forder statue, their hands full of purchased goods or hot, mulled cider from a nearby vendor. 

Brianne took all of this in without turning her head from its forward-facing position. She had found that, beyond anywhere else she’d lived, Redcliffe’s citizens were the most overtly fearful of mages. The Venatori occupation of Redcliffe castle had only fed the rumor mill and strengthened the prejudice most villagers had. Brianne couldn’t bear to watch children flinch from her gaze while their parents hurriedly collected them. She was half convinced that the reason Magister Alexius had done away with forcing the remaining Rebel Mages to stay inside the castle was due to the lack of support from villagers. They feared both the Mages and the Venatori almost equally, and Brianne knew firsthand what kinds of decisions and reactions were bred from fear. 

Frosted-covered leaves and grass crunched under Brianne’s boots as she walked. This far up the path to the castle she was the only soul around, save for the Venatori marksmen and scouts strategically situated out of sight. She had tried to get Enchanter Talwyn to walk back with her, but he was deep in his cups and happy enough in the tavern. Dorian had promised to look after him, so Brianne felt marginally better leaving the aged Enchanter. There were so few of the Rebel Mages left (many having been assimilated into the Venatori’s low-ranking soldiers. Many more were beaten into submission. The rest tried to make it through each day staying outside of the Magister’s line of sight). Brianne knew that if any of them were going to make it through this ordeal, they would have to look out for one another. 

The castle gate came into sight and Brianne triple checked that Dorian’s note to Felix was still safe in her pocket. She rolled her eyes at Dorian’s insistence on writing to Felix. She had given them the rings she and Jon had crafted all those months ago. Both men had (separately) gaped at her before taking their respective ring. Brianne had wanted them to be able to communicate with each other outside of the messages they kept writing. It had taken a lot of convincing before Dorian believed she was the one that had invented the spellwork for the rune responsible for the rings’ powers. Felix, on the other hand, had laughed and embraced her, claiming that he knew she was more brilliant than she was letting on. The men had figured out how to work the rings easily enough, but had discovered that sound only traveled one way. If Felix activated his ring, and Dorian allowed the connection to snap into place, then Dorian would be able to listen in, but couldn’t respond in any fashion. Hence the reason he insisted on writing notes and having Brianne act as courier. 

As Brianne crossed the threshold of the castle gates and entered the courtyard, she finally took note of the flurry of activity. Groups of Venatori were racing around, slamming doors closed in their haste to get to where they were headed. Short bursts of Tevene were shouted out windows and across the courtyard. Even after spending weeks conversing with both Dorian and Felix, Brianne was no closer to understanding the northern language. 

Brianne moved to put her back to one of the stone walls to get out of the way of a charging Venatori soldier. The soldier skidded to a halt after he had passed her and doubled back. She yelped in surprise when he grabbed her by the arm and drug her out of the shadows and into the weak winter sunlight. He stared intently at her face as she held her breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

“You the healer?” the soldier asked her in Common. She shook her head in affirmation. He turned towards the rest of the courtyard and bellowed, “Found her!”

She was then jerked by the arm all the way into the castle, through the west wing, and up the flight of stairs. 

When she realized they were most likely headed to Felix’s chamber, Brianne had to contain herself from rolling her eyes. For the last few weeks (ever since Dorian arrived in Redcliffe), Felix had been playing up his invalid state more frequently than he had in the past. While his beliefs and values were in direct opposition to his father’s, Felix tried never to use his sickness against him. Brianne knew that deep down he still loved his father, even though Felix would be the first to speak of how horrified he is by the choices his father has made in the last year. 

Felix had found that his father would abandon anything to help his son. With this knowledge, Felix had begun to interrupt key meetings, cause the postponement of several operations, and keep his father by his bedside in order to halt planning sessions. Magister Alexius spent an exorbitant amount of money on requests from Felix for things that might make him feel better. Felix had attempted to convince Brianne to lie about certain materials and goods she needed in order to keep Felix healthy, but Brianne wasn’t comfortable doing that, mostly because she knew of nothing that could cure Blight sickness. She didn’t want to find herself at the end of an executioner’s sword because of claims she couldn’t follow through on.

Because Felix had been playing up his illness, Brianne had become his nursemaid. Instead of visiting him once a week, she was now to be by his side at all times. One of the attached walk-in closets had been converted into a bedroom for her, so that she would be near him even at night. Brianne had initially been a bit insulted that Magister Alexius didn’t think her enough of a threat to leave alone with his son all hours of the day, but got over it quickly. Either the Magister had recognized the friendship that had blossomed between her and his son, or he assumed that, as a healer, she would never harm anyone under her care.  


Brianne and the soldier passed by Felix’s room and moved down the hall to the rooms his father had claimed. She had half a second to be confused before a door was thrown open inches from her face to reveal the red-faced Magister.

“WHERE WERE YOU?” he bellowed, spittle flying from his lips. He gave her no time to respond before grabbing her other arm and yanking her into the room. She heard the door slam behind her as she stumbled forward, lost her balance, and landed on her knees in front of a bed. 

She heard wheezing and looked up. Felix was lying on the bed in front of her, his face pallid. His lips were chapped and the hollows underneath his eyes were more sunken in than she had ever seen them. His eyes were bloodshot, and the veins running up his neck were dark against his pallor. Felix attempted a smile, but Brianne could only stare at him in shock. She had been in his company this morning. What had happened since then?

The Magister grabbed a fistful of wheat-colored hair at the crown of her skull and pulled her to her feet. She barely heard Felix’s weak protest of _Father...stop… _over the Magister’s feral order to heal his son.  
__

__Brianne ignored the burning in her scalp in favor of settling on the bed next to Felix. He was so weak he couldn’t move to make any more room, so she found herself half falling off the bed. She moved his legs herself and settled in more comfortably. Brianne knew that whatever she might be able to accomplish, it would take a great deal of time and energy.__

__Mentally bracing herself, she placed her hands on Felix’s chest. She knew that in order to keep his heart beating, she’d have to clear up his breathing first._ _

__His lungs were clear of fluid, which was good. It seemed the wheezing was coming from inflammation in his esophagus. Brianne slowly moved her right hand from his chest to gently wrap her fingers around his throat. She heard the soldiers standing by the door unsheathe their swords, and distantly heard the Magister order them to stand down, but her focus was on Felix. Her vision had tunneled and her brain was blocking out almost all noise save for the ones Felix’s body was making._ _

__Brianne worked slowly, not wanting to overwhelm him. She had learned early on that the human body heals best by itself. The most skilled of healers only jumpstart natural healing processes: they encourage tissues to regrown and muscles to reconnect. Forcing skin to quickly knit itself back together, or magically demolishing a disease could throw a person’s natural reactions off-kilter, forcing them to become dependent on healing magic for the rest of their lives. Brianne had been trying to avoid creating that outcome with Felix, but right now, drastic measures were called for._ _

__Once the inflammation was down to a minimal amount, and the sound of Felix’s breaths weren’t so harsh to her ears, Brianne moved on to other matters. She began tracing her fingertips over Felix’s face and up and down his arms. He was pale due to poor circulation, and it took a great deal of magic and focus to get his blood moving back to where it was needed. The sickness in his veins was slowly causing his blood to turn syrupy. That was the best description she had for what she felt inside of him. His heart was working overtime to pump the viscous blood throughout his body. It was only a matter of time before his overworked heart gave out._ _

__Brianne’s jaw clenched and her stomach rolled as the toxic Blight sickness curled around her senses. She would have given close to anything to be able to use her magic to burn it out of Felix’s blood. She was prolonging his life, but only marginally, and not by fighting the sickness itself. All she could do was react to the symptoms as they appeared, but she could not touch the root of the problem._ _

__Tears of anger burned underneath her closed eyelids as she prematurely mourned the death of another talented mage, of another kind man leaving the world earlier than he should be._ _

__She must have been sitting there for hours. The sun had moved underneath the treeline when she finally opened her eyes. Magister Alexius was the only other person in the room with her (besides Felix). He was sitting in a chair near his son’s bed, arms resting on his thighs, gaze intently focused on his sleeping son._ _

__Now that Felix was in the clear, Brianne was eager to leave. She stood from the bed too quickly and her legs gave out. Not only was one of her legs asleep from her foot to her thigh, she was weak and lightheaded from draining her energy into Felix._ _

__Before she could hit the ground, Magister Alexius was up and helping her into a second chair situated next to the window on the other side of Felix’s bed._ _

__“Thank you,” she murmured._ _

__The Magister didn’t respond to her thanks, He only turned and made his way back to Felix._ _

__When he loomed over his son instead of sitting back down in his chair, Brianne gathered the energy to ask, “What are you doing?”_ _

__With his back to her, he responded, “Waking my son up so he can eat.”_ _

__“Don’t,” Brianne said, but Magister Alexius had already begun trying to make his son wake up._ _

__“Stop,” Brianne pleaded after the third time the Magister called his son’s name and was met with no response. Brianne’s patience snapped when he began gently shaking his son by the shoulders._ _

__In the sternest voice she could muster, she ordered, “Step away from your son, Magister.”_ _

__He rounded on her with surprise and anger in his eyes, but she cut him off. “Felix needs to recover. His body should not divert any energy to digestion right now. Let him sleep for a few hours, and when he wakes on his own you can offer him some food. If you truly wish to see him recover, leave him be, Magister.”_ _

__She could see the storm gathering before her, behind the Magister’s eyes, but lightning never struck. Alexius stood there for a few heartbeats, seething at having been given a directive by a lowly southern mage. As quickly as his rage gathered, it left him in a rush, causing him to slump into the chair he had occupied earlier. He radiated sorrow, anger, and helplessness in equal measures as he watched Felix breathe in and out in a slow, steady rhythm._ _

__Watching him, Brianne was transported to another time and place. The look in Alexius’ eyes, the curve of his hunched shoulders, was the mirror image of her mother. She remembered the nights her mother used to sit in front of the campfire, keeping watch while Brianne was supposed to be asleep. Brianne would lay there looking at her mother over the small fire that had been built. When her mother thought she wasn’t looking, she would give in to the sorrow, anger, and hopelessness within. Her mother let it bleed out through her eyes and into the fire._ _

__Brianne never let her mother know she had seen her like that. It would have cracked open the hole in Annika’s heart even wider knowing that her daughter had seen her with her guard down, that her daughter had seen her dancing in the darkness with despair._ _

__Brianne suddenly realized that the Magister was watching her watch him. She flushed and dropped her gaze. No matter the sympathies she may or may not feel for him, he was still her captor. She was still his unwilling pawn._ _

__“Do you have any children?” he asked her._ _

__Brianne shook her head._ _

__The Magister hummed a low note. “I didn’t think you did. I imagine they would be with you now. Unless they were killed during the Uprising at your Circle tower.”_ _

__Brianne kept her gaze lowered._ _

__“Enchanter,” he called to her, and her eyes rose to his face. “Eat,” he commanded waving his hand towards a tray of fruit and cheese that had been set on Felix’s desk. It only took a few shaky steps to make it to the desk, and Brianne decided to bring the entire tray back with her instead of carrying handfuls of food. Those from the Imperium already thought southerners heathen enough without any help from her lack in dining manners._ _

__Back in her seat, she settled the tray on the window ledge and attempted to keep herself from shoveling food into her mouth. She was exhausted from depleting her energy, and her body craved food to replenish it._ _

__He continued. “Do you have any siblings?” When Brianne shook her head again, he let out a cold, hard laugh. “You wouldn’t know then, would you? How could you? How could anyone know how it feels to devote so much time and care, so much love and patience into raising another human being?”_ _

__Brianne stayed silent, recognizing the rhetorical question. She wasn’t sure why the Magister was speaking to her, but he continued on without any encouragement from Brianne._ _

__“Felix is the most important thing in this world. I am saying this out loud because I know there is no use in pretending otherwise, not after my behavior with you today. My son is my legacy. He has been the one true joy in the life I created for myself. I don’t expect you to understand,” he picked up a wine glass sitting nearby and took a drink, “With no children or siblings, husband or family, you cannot begin to understand what losing him would do to me. You cannot understand the choices I’ve made for the sole purpose of protecting him.”_ _

__Brianne took a moment to gather her thoughts, smiling sadly at the man before her. She knew what had happened to his family. She knew what was happening to his son. Here was a man who wielded terror and authority as easily as Brianne wielded potions and salves, a man who commanded respect and obedience, and somehow, someway, Brianne had made him feel safe enough to drop his guard. He was reaching out to another human being in the only way he knew how._ _

__“My father died when I was six,” she began. The Magister’s eyes were trained on hers, and she made sure not to look away. “He was killed by a nobleman. A group of them broke into our house while my mother was out. I had just come into my magic, and they were upset because I hadn’t headed straight to the Chantry. They wanted to escort me there, but they were drunk, and my father didn’t want them anywhere near me.”_ _

__She paused to eat another grape, and while she chewed, Alexius’ eyes never left hers. She made sure to telegraph her sorrow through them. She hadn’t meant to give him the whole story, but once she began speaking, she found she couldn’t stop._ _

__“He died defending me. One of the noblemen had me by the hair. Claimed he was going to drag me all the way to the Circle like that. Papa got them away from me, but one of them came up behind his back and stabbed him. In the throat.” She saw the Magister raise his hand towards his throat, then abort the action. “He bled out in the street next to me while my mother cried over his body,” she finished.  
__

__Felix shifted in his sleep, and his father turned to him, instantly alert and concerned. Felix settled, and Brianne rose to make her way back to him. She sat on the corner of the bed by the headboard, Felix’s face by her hip. She placed a hand over his, checking to make sure he was still recovering.__

__“My mother was a templar,” she continued, addressing the Magister while looking at Felix. “My father lost his life protecting mine, and my mother sacrificed hers to keep me safe. She was a Knight-Captain. She had safety and security. She had responsibilities and was loved and respected by those in her charge, but she threw it all away. She broke into the noblemen’s houses and slit their throats while they slept. She took me and ran into the wildlands. She fought anything and anyone that came near us, that so much as looked at me the wrong way.”_ _

__She looked back up at Magister Alexius. “You do not have a monopoly on loss, Magister. I have not had to make the kinds of choices you’ve had to, but I speak from your son’s perspective. I never asked my father or mother to do the things they did in my name. I would never have. I appreciate that they did them, and I understand their motivations, but please…” she paused for effect, “Do not lay your choices at Felix’s feet. It is enough that you love him. He sees that. He does not want you to keep sacrificing for him. It is a poison. All he will remember before he leaves this world is the broken man his father became, because of him.”  
__

__Brianne wasn’t sure if she had crossed a boundary or not, but was gambling on the fact that no one could replace her as Felix’s healer. She waited for some kind of rebuke, but none came. The Magister’s was still looking at her face, but he wasn’t really seeing her. His gaze was introspective, oscillating between indignation and regret.__

__Brianne stood and bowed. She murmured that she was heading back to her room, if he had use of her later. She exited, and for the first time since this afternoon took a deep, shuddering breath._ _

__She was lightheaded again, but this time from adrenaline. She almost couldn’t believe she had just spoken that frankly with Magister Alexius. She was also shocked at how much of herself she laid bare. No one, not even Felix, knew all of Brianne’s story. Laughing to herself, she hoped she would see Mouse in the Fade tonight. She would be the first to admit that he was right, that speaking with someone about her sorrows helped ease the constant ache that lived inside her soul._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that it's already the 9th chapter and Brianne still hasn't gotten to the Inquisition yet, let alone run into Cullen, but bear with me. The next chapter will be a dream sequence like normal, but it won't be about Brianne's past. She's finally going to meet the man of her dreams (ha!).
> 
> I can't believe that over 130 people have at least read the first chapter of this. That's so incredible to me. If you're reading this and liking it, or have any questions or suggestions, please leave a comment. I usually hate it when authors pander for comments, but now that I'm writing my own fic, I understand how wonderful it is when another person reaches out across the void and says, "Hey. Good job, you." 
> 
> Thanks for reading this.


	10. Within My Creation, None Are Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Cue music* I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr.  
> Within My creation, none are alone."  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

Brianne was golden and shining, as light as the wind. White mist swirled around her legs as she turned with her partner, dancing to a four piece orchestra somewhere out of sight. Her mask was a heavy weight against her face, golden dust falling from it as her partner picked her up for a half turn during a crescendo. Strong hands around her waist with feet off the ground, Brianne threw back her head a laughed. Her partner set her down again, and they were off, traveling across the ballroom in a flurry of staccato steps. 

Brianne caught her reflection in the gilded mirrors that lined the closest wall. She was wearing an Orlesian dress fit for a comtess. The golden silk brocade was long-sleeved and fitted throughout the entire dress until it ended snugly halfway down her thighs. The collar was high and circular, in the style Madame de Fer had made popular several years back. A white tulle underskirt flared out from where the silk brocade ended. Dainty, golden-heeled slippers and a golden, floral-themed mask finished the ensemble. Brianne’s substantial length of hair was perfectly coiffed in an elaborate updo that she would never be able to replicate on her own.

The song ended, and before Brianne could be swept up in another dance with another nameless party guest, she threw her arms out and twirled herself around in a circle, smiling from ear to ear. None of the guests around her made any comment on her uncouth behavior. They simply waited for her joyous spinning to cease before stepping forward and offering their hands for the next dance. Brianne chose a woman this time, and the moment their fingers touched the orchestra started up again, this time with a waltz.

Brianne had never danced like this before. She had attended a multitude of parties in Val Royeaux during the year and a half she was there, but not as an honored guest. She was always attending as a representative for the Circle, and as such had to behave with utmost decorum. No one was brave enough to dance with a mage anyways, even if the Court had approved of mages engaging in public activities that showed how similar they were to normal people. Brianne would hold her disappointment inside while she circulated, laughing at the appropriate moments, and pandering to Orlais’ Elite. 

Right now, she was just an anonymous woman in a beautiful dress. Even though she knew it was a dream, she was going to make the most of it.

As the waltz came to an end, Brianne noticed a patch of swirling mist off to her left. It parted, as if cut with a sword, and a man stepped through it. He was looking directly at her, but made no movement towards her.

Brianne curtsied low, brushing a kiss over her partner’s hand. The woman giggled, but turned and walked away, just as the rest of Brianne’s partners had since the dream began. She sighed and turned to the next person offering to dance with her.

She took the hand of a man dressed in dark blue dress robes and stepped towards him. All of a sudden she felt a hand in her unoccupied one, and a quickly spoken, “Pardon me,” before she was pulled in the opposite direction. Completely unprepared, she shuffled and teetered, precariously close to falling forward into the new stranger that stole her from her partner.

She looked up to meet a face wearing a fitted mask shaped like a lion snarling. It was the man that had stepped through the mist.

“Apologies, my lady,” he said. He brought his gloved hand to her elbow to steady her, and she admired the play of his muscles underneath the deep maroon of his fitted jacket. The music picked up once more, and he tentatively placed his other hand in between her shoulder blades. A thrill ran down her spine, starting from where his hand was, to blossom deep in her gut. 

They didn’t move when the music started. They stood in correct form, waiting for something, or so it felt like. Right before Brianne was about to begin leading, the man took a deep inhale, and began the first steps. Brianne followed easily, and she felt the tension that had gathered in the man’s shoulders ease away.

The song seemed to go on forever. Brianne was enjoying the feeling of his arms around her, content to live in the moment, when the man barked out a few notes of laughter. It was rough and worn, as though it took energy escaping from his lungs. But it was genuine, and Brianne smiled in bewilderment.

He looked down at her with a crooked grin (at least it seemed crooked through the maw of his mask). “This is all so strange,” he commented, his accent distinctly Ferelden. “I believe we’ve been dancing for quite a while now, and it’s wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed dancing this much.”

Brianne was happy that the dream had finally provided her with a partner to talk to. Dancing the night away was a lovely prospect, but she had begun craving someone to talk to, someone to share the experience with. “We can stop if you like,” she demurred.

“Maker! Your voice is lovely,” he said, eyes wide upon her face. “I saw you across the room and…” he broke off, a blush visible on the skin just above the neckline of his jacket. 

It took a few moments of silence and concentrated footwork before he continued. “This isn’t how my dreams normally go.”

Puzzled and intrigued, Brianne asked, “How do they normally go?”

He frowned. “I usually don’t dream unless it’s a nightmare.” 

Brianne was starting to worry. She had assumed that this was a normal dream, just a fantasy of hers come to life for the short time she was asleep. It didn’t happen very often. Most of the time she dreamed of the past, but every once in a while she would have a pleasant dream filled with nothing but things that made her happy. Brianne had never dreamed up another person to interact with that she couldn’t control, or at least be able to predict what they would do and say. She was starting to think that she may have hijacked someone else’s dream.

The man was still speaking to her. “That’s where I was before this. It’s always the same: trapped and angry and helpless. I was there, and then I wasn’t. There was all this blighted fog, and I was worried my mind had conjured some new terror for me, but then there you were. Dancing. That’s normally a terror in itself. I don’t dance, you see.”

Brianne was letting him ramble, hoping to glean more information about who he was and what he was doing in her dream. He had obviously stumbled into her dream as he was trying to escape his nightmare, and Brianne was momentarily overcome with anger that this nice man (with his strong, sure arms and disused laughter) was plagued by that demon regularly. 

“I think you’re doing a fine job dancing,” she praised, and squeezed the hand she had resting on his biceps. 

This time she saw his ears turn pink. He laughed again (in self-deprecation, she assumed) and twirled her under his raised arm. Her spinning disrupted the mist around them, causing it to twist around their waists as they changed positions and moved with the song that still hadn’t ended. 

“One moment I’m fighting for my life and the next I’m stumbling into a ballroom where the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is floating around the room like a dawn lotus on the water of Lake Calenhad.”

As compliments go, it was a strange one, but it still struck Brianne to the core. She vividly remembered looking out the apprentice tower windows at Kinloch, watching the sunrise over the lake. The dawn lotus flowers were white pearls against the deep blue of the water. She had longed to know what they looked like up close, what they smelled like. The man’s heart-felt comparison had transported her back to her childhood, and she fought the prickling of tears behind her eyes.

The lion-masked man must had sensed something from her, for he looked at her with concern, using the hand at her back to urge her a few inches closer than propriety dictated. 

_Stuff propriety _Brianne thought as she moved forward even farther to lean her head against his chest. She felt how startled he was, but nevertheless moved his arms to encircle her against him in almost a perfect embrace.__

__Brianne was an unusually short human. Neither of her parents had been unusually short, but her father had only been as tall as her mother, and had joked that it was a curse from his side of the family. Brianne had been told all her life to expect a growth spurt in her early teens, but it never occurred. Leaning against the lion-masked man, Brianne found the top of her head barely cleared his shoulders. With most people, her height disadvantage made most things awkward, but with this man in this moment, she had never felt more comfortable in her life. She had never felt like she fit more perfectly against someone than she did right now._ _

__The music finally slowed, then stopped. Her masked man backed up and bowed over her hand. Just as she had done with her earlier partners, he brushed a kiss against the knuckles of the hand he held. His lips were soft, and she found that she wanted to know how they felt against the inside of her wrist. The curve of her collarbone. The skin underneath her ear…_ _

__Now it was her turn to blaze bright pink, and the man grinned at her as if he knew what she was thinking._ _

__Emboldened by the dreamscape and the man’s actions, Brianne curtsied over his hand while tugging his glove off. She tossed it to the ground amidst the sound of the man chuckling. Those chuckles were cut off by his soft gasp as she place short, staccato kisses along each knuckle, then each fingertip._ _

__His eyes were alight with desire when she met them. It had been forever since anyone had looked at her like that, and she felt her body responding to the need that hung unspoken in the air. He took a step towards her, and she heard him murmur, “Maker, I hope you’re not a desire demon.”_ _

__She laughed at the absurdity of his statement. After collecting herself, she batted her eyelashes and playfully and responded with, “And if I was? What would you ask of me?”_ _

__The man’s body went from loose and relaxed to petrified in half a second. The other half of that second found Brianne flat on her ass in the middle of the ballroom with the man tearing away from her.  
__

__He vanished into the thickening mist before she could make a single sound.__

__“You were supposed to make it better,” someone said to her right. She turned and saw a boy standing a ways away, obscured through the mist. His only distinguishing characteristic was a large, pointed hat, almost a caricature of what evil, Chasind mage hats were supposed to look like._ _

__She opened her mouth to address this new dream-person, but he cut her off. “Fighting, flailing, falling. He wants peace but doesn’t think it’s possible. You can help him. You _were _helping him, until you weren’t.”___ _

____Brianne sat very still for a moment, absorbing the spirit’s words. There was no mistaking what it was, with the way the Fade responded to it, and its strange speech pattern. “Who was I helping?” she finally asked._ _ _ _

____“That’s not the right question,” it responded. “You’ll find the right question eventually, but you need to go. Now.”_ _ _ _

____“Where?”_ _ _ _

____“To him. You have the answer to his question, but he doesn’t know he should ask it yet. He’ll ask it eventually. You should be there when he does.”_ _ _ _

____Brianne stood up and dusted off her dress. “Where can I find him?”_ _ _ _

____“Go!” the spirit shouted, and pointed in the direction the lion-masked man had run in. The mist parted the same way it had earlier, as though the spirit split it open with a knife, and Brianne saw a marble path leading away from the ballroom. She picked up the skirt of her dress as best she could and took off down the path. She spared a glance over her shoulder, but the spirit with the pointed hat was lost in the mist that closed behind her as she exited the ballroom._ _ _ _

____She didn’t have to travel far to catch up with her lion-masked man. He was at the end of the corridor with his back to her, arms braced against a marble pillar, chest heaving in great breaths. She went to call out his name and realized that she had never asked it._ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry,” she said instead, causing him to jump and whirl around to face her. She saw that his face was pale. The desire and admiration from earlier was gone, replaced by fear and loathing. He barred his teeth at her, creating an unintentional echo of the snarling lion mask he wore. He seemed to brace himself for impact, and demanded, “Be gone demon.”_ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry,” Brianne repeated. She pushed all the regret and sorrow she could into her words and eyes, using her body to make herself seem as small and unimposing as possible. “I was jesting. I thought you were as well.”_ _ _ _

____He didn’t seem to be listening to her. “Very clever of you, to make it seem like I was being delivered from my usual torture. If it’s not Nightmare, then it’s You. Are you sure you aren’t a Pride demon? Can’t stand that one little Templar got away from you? I know your tricks. I SURVIVED them,” he shouted._ _ _ _

____Brianne’s heart dropped at the revelation that this man was a Templar. Bile rose in her throat at the implication that he had grappled with a demon and won, yet still was being plagued by others. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to convince this man that she was simply a mage, dreaming away, and that she was here to help him with...something._ _ _ _

____She thought back to her mother. When the world seemed to overwhelm Knight-Captain Annika, she would lay down her sword and shield, close her eyes, and chant. Brianne remembered many nights in the wilderness of The Marches and Ferelden where she would fall asleep to her mother’s soothing voice over the crackling of their fire._ _ _ _

____Brianne removed her mask and tossed it on the ground in front of the man. She dropped down to her knees, smoothed her dress out, and settled back on her heels. Closing her eyes, she began reciting the first verse that came to mind:_ _ _ _

______“Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken  
There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call.  
‘Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing,  
An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown.  
You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alamarr…” 

____“‘Within My creation, none are alone,’” he finished for her._ _ _ _

____She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “The Maker Appears to Andraste,” she said. His eyebrows rose at her citation. “Do you think a demon would devote itself to learning the Canticle of Andraste?” she asked._ _ _ _

____He snorted, but didn’t move any closer to her. “A demon could reach into my head and pull out whatever I wanted to hear.” His words were confident, but his tone led her to believe she had successfully planted a seed of doubt._ _ _ _

____“I’m not a demon,” she insisted. “I’m a person, just like you.”_ _ _ _

____“Why can’t I see your face?” he asked sharply._ _ _ _

____“You can’t see my face?” She reached up to touch her chin and nose. “I took my mask off. My face is still there, isn’t it?”_ _ _ _

____She tried to keep the frantic note from her voice, but didn’t succeed if his choked-off laugh was any indication. At least she had gotten him to laugh again. “I don’t know. When you took off your mask, the fog thickened. I can see your outline, and that you’re not wearing your mask, but I can’t see your features.”_ _ _ _

____“There’s no extra fog,” Brianne argued. “I can see you just fine. Take your mask off.”_ _ _ _

____His hand rose to his face, but hesitated. “If you’re a regular person, ‘just like me,’ then how can we be sharing a dream?”_ _ _ _

____Brianne dropped her gaze to the floor, even though he couldn’t see it. “I may or may not be just a regular person,” she hedged._ _ _ _

____There was a beat of silence before the revelation. “You’re a mage. You’re a Somniari.”_ _ _ _

____His tone was neither accusatory nor disdainful, but she still flinched from it. “I’m not a Dreamer, but I am a mage. I don’t know why we’re sharing a dream. I was alone in my dream until you showed up, but you were alone in your dream until you stumbled upon mine. Your words!” she reminded him when he seemed about to argue with her. “Please take your mask off,” she asked again. “If only to see what happens.”_ _ _ _

____With a deep, shuddering breath he removed his mask. Instantly the mist clinging to the floor rose up to envelope his body, obscuring all but his outline. Brianne let out a hysterical laugh and rose to her feet._ _ _ _

____“I take it the same thing happened,” he said dryly as she approached him. The mist seemed to thicken the closer she got to him. When she was a few feet away, he seemed to disappear entirely._ _ _ _

____“Well how am I supposed to find you if I don’t know what your name is or what you look like?” she complained to the Fade (and hopefully the spirit that seemed intent on her helping this mystery man)._ _ _ _

____She heard his voice come from somewhere in front of her to the left, and jumped when she felt fingertips graze her wrist. “Who says that you need to find me?”_ _ _ _

____She caught his hand in hers and began tracing her fingers up his arm and across his chest. She simply wanted to know where he was in relation to her, but just as her fingers grazed the bottom of his chin, she felt the world spin around her. One of his hands had grabbed her wrist, twisting it behind her back. Her body followed the motion so that she was standing with her back to his chest, arm caught in between them. His other hand came up to wrap around her throat in a vice-like grip._ _ _ _

____“Wait...” Brianne started, but the rest of her words were choked off on a gasp of pain by his hand squeezing the pulse point in her neck while the other pulled upwards slightly on the arm twisted in between them._ _ _ _

____“I don’t know who you are or why you’re set on finding out where I am, but I promise that none of your tricks will work on me,” he said, this voice quiet and grave. The cowering, fearful man from earlier had vanished, and in its place stood a hardened soldier. Brianne could feel it in the line of his body bracketing hers, in the way he knew exactly how much pressure to apply to her throat, and with how much force to twist her wrist._ _ _ _

____She was suddenly afraid for herself. Here she was running after masked strangers in the Fade simply because a spirit urged her to. He was a templar! The majority of them had absconded with Seeker Lucius to Therinfal Redoubt, but many garrisons still remained wandering around Orlais, Ferelden, and the Free Marches, intent on mage genocide. What if he was one of them? What if he managed to murder her in the Fade? What if..._ _ _ _

____The mist around them erupted into flashing scenes. Ghostly fog-figures acted out short sequences of memories. Brianne as a child, running down an alley in Ostwick. Her father tucking her into bed. Brianne as a teenager, being shoved down a flight of stairs by a templar. Her mother sharpening her sword in front of a campfire. Her mother’s face, twisted and feral, shoving that same blade into her chest…_ _ _ _

____The man was shocked into dropping his guard. Brianne wrenched herself away from him and shouted, throwing her arms out as though to shield herself from both him and the images. She vaguely heard him ask, “Was that Kinloch?” before she turned and ran back the way she came. The heel of her slipper caught on the dragging tulle of her gown, and she pitched forward. Arms windmilling, she..._ _ _ _

____...jolted out of her cot, causing it to thump against the side of the wall. She blinked her disorientation away enough to realize that she was in her room at Redcliffe. She could hear Felix on the other side of the door, snoring away. She settled back down on her cot and focused on steadying her breathing. She knew there’d be no more sleep for her tonight. She lay there in silence, listening to the regular nighttime noises, and wondering about the lion-masked man._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Back to Redcliffe castle, for it's the end of the line for House Alexius.


	11. Greater Than Mountains, Towering Mighty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Calpurnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lo! My eyes open'd, shining before me  
> Greater than mountains, towering mighty,  
> Hand all outstretch'd, stars glist'ning as jewels  
> From rings 'pon His fingers and crown 'pon His brow.  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

It was almost exactly a week after Brianne’s strange dream that her situation went from bad, to worse.

Brianne was reading next to the fire while Felix worked at his desk when they heard a horn sound in the distance. Brianne merely looked towards the closed window, intrigued, but Felix shot out of his seat and ran over to it, flinging it open and hanging most of his front half outside. Brianne make a noise of complaint in the back of her throat (she was sitting by the fire for a reason!), but he ignored her.

“Felix, you’ll catch a cold,” she scolded, startling herself with how much like her mother she sounded. He shut the window a few seconds later and hurried over to his dresser. He began opening drawers and haphazardly pulling out different articles of clothing.

“What did you see?” she asked, closing her book.

“Nothing really, but that was a signal from our scouts. Someone is heading up to the castle, and they must be someone important for the guards to let them pass.”

Brianne’s heart lept at the implausible thought that it might be Arl Teagan come to reclaim his home. Brianne was certain it wasn’t. She imagined the alert would be completely different if an enemy was approaching the castle.

While lost in her daydream of the Arl storming the keep with reinforcements hand-selected by Queen Anora, Felix had begun stripping down to change. Brianne had initially been shocked by how open and unembarrassed he was about showing off his body, but she learned that it was a cultural quirk. In Tevinter, it was an almost daily occurrence for people of both genders to go to bath houses (there were public and private ones, apparently). People didn’t just bathe in them either: they met with friends, drank and ate small meals, finalized business arrangements, and sometimes took naps. The thought of a place like that was simultaneously appaling and appealing to her. Brianne wasn’t too shy herself, having had to learn how to change in front of others her age in Ferelden’s Circle, but she was nowhere near as comfortable with the level of nudity that Felix was. 

“I can’t be that horrible to look at,” he teased her. 

She had been gazing vacantly at the closed window, but now turned to look at him. She caught his smile before he dropped a soft cotton undershirt over his chest, covering up the scarred slashes he had on his abdomen from the Hurlock he had fought almost a year ago. When he bent over to pick up the thin chain-mail shirt that he always wore under his light leather tunic, she got up and walked over to the mirror by his dresser. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her robe as best she could, and decided to re-plait her hair. 

Now that it was winter and she was rarely outside, her wheat-colored hair had lost its highlights, looking closer to the light brown her father’s had been. In the summertime, when she took every opportunity to soak in the sun, her hair shone a dull gold, closer to her mother’s. Her fingers stilled as she reached the end of the braid, looking around for the leather tie that had held it together before. “Here,” she heard Felix say, and his hands replaced hers to gather the braid up, loop it around itself, and secure it at the base of her skull.

She caught his eye in the mirror and smiled her thanks. He smiled back and motioned for her to follow him out of the room.

Felix led them down to the main throne room. Brianne didn’t know what to call it other than that, even though Arl Teagan would have a fit if he knew she thought about the room that way. A single chair sat upon a slightly raised dais, framed by a roaring fire behind it. The chair hadn’t been there when Brianne first arrived at Redcliffe. The Arl would stand on the dias whenever he had an audience; it was the Tevinter Magister that had brought a throne in for himself. He was currently seated in that chair, and Felix took his place standing to his father’s left, while Brianne took her place behind both of them. She leaned against the wall where the fireplace ended and waited patiently for the mystery guests to show up. 

It took longer than she thought it would. She tried to keep from fidgeting too much, but she was becoming terribly hot so close to the fire. Felix was chatting away with his father, who was sitting more comfortably in his chair than he had been when they first set themselves in their positions. Brianne hadn’t been alone with the Magister since the talk they had by Felix’s bedside. Not that Brianne had been alone in his company very much in the past, she was just waiting for the Magister to catch her alone and rebuke her for the things she had said. Nothing had happened so far, and Brianne could only hope that nothing would. She was certain that Felix didn’t know about the heart-to-heart conversation they had while he slept. She wasn’t certain how she felt about that.

Her focus was brought back to the present when the doors were thrown open and a whole contingency of Venatori marched in. They were led by an imposing woman dressed in dark leather with a mage’s staff strapped to her back.

“Calpurnia, what a surprise,” the Magister intoned. He did not rise from his seat, nor did he address her with any honorific. Brianne couldn’t see his face, but his tone spoke volumes towards what he thought of this woman. 

Calpurnia stopped at the bottom of the dais. She lifted her chin and sneered at the Magister. “Is this how you greet an emissary from The Elder One?” she asked.

_Elder One? _Brianne thought to herself.__

__“Is that how you think of yourself?” Alexius asked. “Calpurnia--emissary to God,” he mocked. She saw him lean forward, elbows braced on his bent knees. “You’re just a tool: a pawn moving where its master places it.”_ _

__Brianne saw the woman flinch infinitesimally. “And you? The Mighty Magister sitting on his stolen throne. What a pretty picture he makes,” she crooned, her smile as sharp as broken glass._ _

__She stepped towards the dais. “The Elder one is getting restless, Gereon. You made a promise to him that you have not fulfilled.”_ _

Alexius shot out of his chair and loomed over the woman. “I am a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium! You shall address me as such, _Liberati. _”__

Brianne herd Felix suck in a sharp breath. She wondered what _Liberati _meant. Too much time had passed since Mouse’s explanation of Tevinter language and society.__

______Calpurnia’s smile turned triumphant at Alexius’ outburst. “I know how much that must twist your stomach, Magister, to be accountable to a Liberati. But we are not in Tevinter anymore. I am esteemed by The Elder One, and he has sent me to collect on the promise you made him.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______There was a beat of silence before Alexius returned to his seat. “You will have to return empty-handed then,” he finally replied._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And why is that?” she asked._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Because it is not ready,” was his terse response._ _ _ _ _ _

______Calpurnia looked as though she wanted to rub her hands together in glee. “And why is it not ready?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Because it is not!” Alexius shouted. “I would not expect a Laetan, let alone a Liberati to understand the nuances of the configuration and functioning of delicate magical spells and procedures.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You cannot fulfil your promise, can you Gereon?” she asked quiety. Alexius sputtered while she turned towards Felix. “You there. I take it you’re his Altus? What is your name?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Felix, my lady,” he said as he bowed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do not bow to that woman!” Alexius ordered._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Your father was remiss in introducing me. I am Calpurnia.” She seemed to give him a genuine smile. “Tell me Felix, has your father completed the spellwork that will allow us to travel back in time to before the Breach was created?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne had sat in on a lot of Venatori meetings. For many months now, wherever Felix went, she followed. In all of Brianne’s time eavesdropping at the back of rooms, she had never heard mention of spellwork at the level that Calpurnia was talking about. She wanted to tell the woman that she was mad. It wasn’t possible to travel through time. Magic didn’t work like that._ _ _ _ _ _

______Or maybe it did. Instead of laughing at her, Felix simply said, “I do not know, my lady. I have not been privileged to that information. I know that the spells work, but nothing about how far back one can travel.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne couldn’t keep herself from gaping at the back of Felix’s head._ _ _ _ _ _

______Calpurnia made a tsking sound and turned her attention back to Alexius. “Poorly done Gereon, keeping your son out of Venatori affairs. The Elder one expects you to use all the resources available to you. No wonder you haven’t completed your work yet.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It will be finished when it is finished,” Alexius stated severely. “Now you may leave and return to the Elder One with your report. Run along, like the good little girl you are.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Calpurnia’s face contorted in rage. She ascended the dais and stopped when she was inches away from the Magister. “Do you know what I have been doing while you’ve been sitting here, playing Arl? I have been across this continent, from the Hissing Wastes to the Imperium to the Amaranthine Coast. I have been securing holdings for the Elder One, gathering resources for our army, and sowing the seeds of chaos and dissonance. I am beloved of our god!” her voice cracked and Brianne saw lightning spark from her fingertips for a brief second._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You have had one job, Magister: create a portal for our Lord to travel through to undo what has been done. To right the wrongs of the past. Have you done that? No! While you kept yourself safe inside your castle walls, the Inquisition swept in, UNDERNEATH YOUR NOSE, and decimated Therinfall Redoubt. The Elder One’s Red Templars have fallen.” She was leaning into Alexius’ personal space, and Brianne was shocked to watch the Magister cower before her._ _ _ _ _ _

______"There are only a handful of garrisons left, scattered across the continent, safe only because they were not at the keep when the Inquisition arrived.” Calpurnia took a step back and unslung her staff from her back. The long staff blade glinted in the firelight._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Tell me Magister,” she said so softly that Brianne had to strain to hear her. “Will you have the spellwork completed within the next few days?”_ _ _ _ _ _

Alexius said nothing. Brianne couldn’t see his face, but he must have made some gesture or expression that told Calpurnia all she needed to know. Brianne head Felix’s shout of _No! _before she saw Calpurnia’s staff move, faster than lightning. Brianne reflectively prepared to throw a barrier up to encompass both her and Felix, but before she could complete it, she saw the end of Calpurnia staff blade slice through the back on Alexius’ chair. There it stayed, the tip exposed and dripping blood down the back of the chair, Alexius unmoving.__

________Felix threw himself at his father, and Brianne heard Calpurnia tell her guards to grab him. Brianne felt the beginning of an ice spell in the air before a Zealot struck Felix’s head with the pommel of his short sword. Felix dropped like a stone, and Brianne tried to moved to his side._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The guards turned towards her and she skidded to a halt, arms raised above her head. “I’m his healer,” she said, turning to Alexius’ former guards that had been stationed in the room the entire time. They had done nothing but watch the altercation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The closest one shook his head and confirmed that Brianne was a healer that Alexius kept around for the Venatori, but mostly for his son. Calpurnia leveled her with a calculating gaze and asked, “Are you here of your own free will?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne was taken aback by the question. This woman had just murdered an unarmed man where he sat. She was obviously a fanatic, a leading figure in this cult, and she was worried about Brianne’s free will? “I was living in this castle with the Rebel Mages,” she said hesitantly. “I was here when the Magister showed up. I became indentured to him when he struck a bargain with my leader.” Brianne stopped talking when Calpurnia’s eyes flashed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You’re indentured,” she repeated, gaze hardening even further. “He enslaved the Rebel Mages. How could that have slipped my mind?” Brianne waited, not saying anything else, lest she upset this crazed woman even further._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You are not anymore,” Calpurnia declared. Brianne blinked at her, not willing to believe what she was hearing. “Yes, healer, you are no longer indentured to Magister Gereon Alexius, nor any of his living family.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne’s eyes moved to Felix, lying supine on the ground a few feet away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Speak your mind, healer,” Calpurnia ordered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What will become of Felix?” Brianne asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“He will be taken to the dungeons where he will stay until he can complete the work that his father did not. A promise was made, and it must be kept.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne hesitated for a moment before curtseying to Calpurnia. “Thank you, my lady, for my freedom. You have already given me so much, but if I may be so bold as to ask for one more thing?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Calpurnia smiled at her and nodded her head. “Felix has been so kind to me since the moment I was indentured. I would ask that you allow me to heal him one last time before I leave. I feel I owe him as much, and it would give me a chance to say goodbye to him.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“That is an easy enough request,” Calpurnia agreed. “Where will you go when that is done?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Home,” was Brianne’s automatic answer. It wasn’t the truth, but it also wasn’t a lie. Brianne hadn’t had a home in a long time. Home was wherever she seemed to be at the moment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“And where is that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Ostwick,” Brianne lied. That had been the last place that had felt like a home should feel._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“There is nothing left in Ostwick,” Calpurnia chided. “If you plan on staying a healer, travel to the Emprise with a contingency of my men. We have a small force there that is growing every day. You will have a position of honor. You will have safety. You will be on the side of the victorious.” Calpurnia’s eyes were shining with the promise of the future she saw for herself and her followers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne’s heart lept in fear, but she held it in. She had to be careful. “That is very generous of you, my lady. Would you allow me a night to think on it? I was not planning on leaving until tomorrow morning, if you would permit me to spend another night here.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Calpurnia’s smile left a sour taste in Brianne’s mouth. “Of course. Find me tomorrow morning after you’ve eaten and spoken to your charge. And healer…” she called out as Brianne turned from her. “I will know if you leave without doing so,” she warned._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne managed a weak smile back and hurried out of the throne room, back up to her closet, to gather her things._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Brianne dreams of her past. We'll see what life was like after fleeing Ostwick.
> 
> Liberati: A freed slave. They are the lowest rung of citizens in the Imperium.  
> Laetan: A person with magical abilities that comes from a family line without magical abilities.


	12. Sword-Shattering Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne and her mother run from Ostwick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sword-shattering fear filled me overflowing.  
> Grandeur of godhood no gaze should defile.  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

It’s quiet in the Chantry, but not the peaceful quiet that normally accompanies nightfall. It’s the kind of silence that comes when everyone is holding their breath, waiting for the aftershocks that normally follow earthquakes.

Brianne doesn’t know what everyone seems to be waiting for. She’s lying on a pallet on the cold Chantry floor, staring at the vaulted ceiling. Her mind drifts idly, thinking about nothing and everything. Every once in a while, her father’s face will seem to look down at her from the dark. Sometimes he’s smiling, as he would when he tucks her in to sleep at night. Sometimes his eyes are vacant. He opens his mouth to say something to her, and blood drips from his lips.

Brianne doesn’t scream or shy away from the images her mind is conjuring. She isn’t afraid enough. In fact, she doesn’t feel much of anything. The floor underneath her is hard and cold. She knows this, but it doesn’t bother her. Earlier, the city guard detained her mother for questioning while the Templars took Brianne’s limp, unconscious body to the Chantry for healing. She knows she should be upset that her mother hasn’t come to see her yet, hours after nightfall, but she isn’t. She should be upset that when she woke up no one would talk to her. She isn’t. She knows that her father is gone, that he was killed earlier that day, but she isn’t angry. Or upset. Or afraid.

The only feeling she has access to right now is curiosity.

She keeps wondering what’s going to happen to her. Will she still go to the Circle in the morning? Will her mother meet her by the Chanter’s board out front? Will they walk hand-in-hand to the tower as if nothing has happened? As if nothing has changed?

Will she be punished for attacking those men? They came after her, and she somehow knows that she was right for defending herself. Her father didn’t use any kind of force until he saw his daughter being hurt, and even then it was less than what Brianne did on accident. Where is her father now?

Another image of him, face pale and mouth gaping, flashes in her mind. She scrunches her nose and rolls to her side, shifting to get more comfortable. She hears a noise from the other side of the door and listens carefully, eager to focus on other things.

There are voices murmuring, too soft for her to make out any words. There’s the muted sound of boots on cobblestone, and then the lock is clicking open in the door. Brianne hadn’t realized that she was trapped in here. It hadn’t even occurred to her to try and leave the room the Sisters put her in for the night. None of that matters though, because Brianne’s mother is opening the door and rushing over to her. She’s collapsing on the pallet next to her, and covering her in a warm embrace. 

“Oh my baby…” her mother sobs into the top of Brianne’s head. Mother and daughter stay like that for a small eternity. Brianne hears one of the Sisters close the door, and the room is engulfed in darkness again. 

Brianne’s much more comfortable now that her mother is acting as a buffer between her and the stone floor. Brianne thinks she could finally fall asleep like this. Her mother is whispering things into her hair, into the dark void that the room has become, but Brianne doesn’t understand half of what she’s saying. She doesn’t really try to. She’s so tired, and finally she feels warm and safe again.

Right as she begins to doze off, her mother wakes her. Brianne feels herself being lightly shaken, and opens her eyes. Her mother has stopped crying and has affected the mask she sometimes wears as Knight-Captain Annika Eduards of the Ostwick chapter of Templars. 

Knight-Captain Eduards looks down at the girl curled up on her lap and asks, “Was anyone sent for to heal you?”

“No Ser,” Brianne says. “I got a cold compress for my head. I haven’t seen anybody since.” 

Rage surges up in her mother and breaks across the shoreline of her eyes. “I didn’t need anybody!” Brianne quickly insists. “I healed myself.” She doesn’t want to get any of the Sisters in trouble, for some reason.  
She can feel something bad stirring in her mother, and knows she needs to work to keep it at bay.

Knight-Captain Eduards stands abruptly, pulling Brianne up with her. “We need to leave,” she whispers, and walks over to the only window the room has.

“To go to the Circle?” Brianne asks as she watches her mother evaluating the window. It’s locked as well, and Knight-Captain Eduards spends several minutes testing it for weaknesses. 

Her question isn’t answered. Brianne’s mother picks up a heavy, wooden candlestick holder Brianne hadn’t noticed sitting on a small table in the corner of the room. She brings it over to the window and bashes out the corner. The sound of glass shattering is loud in the darkness, and Brianne jumps. 

“Mama…” she begins to say, uncertain exactly what she’s going to ask, but there are shouts from inside the Chantry. 

“Freeze the door,” Knight-Captain Eduards demands with her arm part way through the broken window, straining to release the catch installed on the outside in honor of the captive guest. 

“I don’t know how,” Brianne replies as she runs over to the door. She leans her insignificant weight against it, as if that is all it would take to keep any Sisters or Brothers from entering the room.

Her mother levels her with hardened eyes. “You froze the younger Lord Galliston as he was trying to take you from the house. Do it again.”

“But I didn’t know…I wasn’t… ” Brianne tries to explain, but doesn’t have the words. She’s starting to feel the stirrings of something deep in the pit of her stomach, something other than curiosity, something her mother is inspiring in her, and it’s unpleasant.

“Annika?” It’s one of the Sisters on the other side of the door. “Annika, is everything alright?” 

Her mother has unhooked the latch and propped the window open. It’s large enough for both an adult and child to fit through, Brianne realizes. Her mother walks over to her and crouches down so that they’re level with each other. “Listen carefully,” Knight-Captain Eduards commands. Brianne doesn’t so much as blink away from her mother’s eyes. “If you do not freeze this door, then the Templars will come through and take you away from me again. They will not take you to the Circle. They will lock you in a dark room until the Knight-Commander comes with his iron-hot Tranquility brand. They will take your magic away from you, and you will die.”

Brianne doesn’t say anything. Her mother is serious, she can tell, but Brianne is confused. “That’s not how it works…” she begins, but is cut off by the Sister, inches away from them, on the other side of the door.

“Annika? I need you to answer me.” The Sister knocks on the door, and her mother pushes Brianne behind it as she cracks it open, enough for the Sister to see her face. 

“Sister Ethyl?” Her mother is smiling now. Brianne hadn’t know how great of an actress she was, how quickly she could switch between the different people she needed to be.

“Annika, I heard a crash. Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry about that. I was explaining to my daughter that she would not be attending her father’s funeral. It upset her, and she threw something across the room. I’ll increase my tithe to the Chantry this week to pay for any damages.”

There’s a heavy pause before Sister Ethyl continues, somewhat hesitantly. “I didn’t realize there was going to be a service for…”

“No, there’s not,” her mother cuts in abruptly, still smiling. “That’s what upset her. I was explaining to her that the city council decided to back the Galliston’s story. The council is publicly naming her father a Maleficar and hailing those men as heroes. Since Maleficar have turned from the Maker, they are not allowed the right of a proper funeral. She will not be attending his funeral because there won’t be one.”

“I’m so sorry, Annika.”

“Of course you are. Now, may I please go back to saying goodbye to my daughter?” Her mother starts to shut the door, but Brianne sees Sister Ethyl’s hand shoot out to block her. 

“You know that what the Gallistons are demanding will not come to pass. They may have had their way with Nolin, but Brianne will not suffer the fate they pursue for her.”

“You were not there, Sister. You did not hear the First Enchanter speak. There has never been a blood mage in Ostwick before. Dabney does not intend for one to sneak in on his watch. That is why he folded so quickly, why he didn’t stand up for one of his own. Better a good man dies on accident than a blood mage is suffered to live.” 

“They will not do that to a child!” Sister Ethyl insists.

“Yes, well, better I say my goodbyes now than when she’s an emotionless vegetable,” her mother jokes, and shuts the door in the Sister’s face. 

Both Brianne and her mother wait a few heartbeats in silence. Finally they hear Sister Ethyl’s footsteps trailing away, and her mother lets out a deep sigh. 

Brianne looks up at her mother and sees that Knight-Captain Eduards is back. 

“You need to freeze this door, Brianne. You need to freeze this door so that we can climb through that window and leave the city. I just bought us some time, but if you freeze that door you will buy us even more. They will think you are trying to keep me from leaving you again, and will spend all their energy trying to get the door open. By the time they do, we’ll be long gone. So do it. Now.”

Brianne was reeling from all that she had heard. She's tired and confused, and simply looks at the door and repeats, “I don’t know how.”

“How did you do it earlier?” the Knight-Captain asks.

“It wasn’t on purpose. He grabbed me, and I was scared.” Brianne began to remember how she had felt in that moment. Her fear was ice in her veins. She walks over to the closed door and puts her hands on it, like she had when she had healed Cal this morning. _Was that really this morning? _She tries to freeze the door like her mother is asking of her, but it doesn’t work.__

She hears the Knight-Captain’s harsh exhalation from behind her, and she tries harder, but nothing is happening. A larger hand covers hers, sword-callused fingers lining up with her smaller ones, and her mother begins speaking in a cold voice she didn’t recognize. “Sister Ethyl is gone, but if I don’t come out of this room soon, she will come back. She will find us gone and she will call the Templars to hunt us down. They think you’re dangerous. They think your father taught you blood magic, which was why you attacked those men. We know the truth,” she squeezes Brianne’s fingers so hard that she can’t feel them for a second. “We know the truth,” she repeats, “But no one will listen to us. We need to get away from this city, while the Templars haven’t taken your blood to make a phylactery. They can’t track you, or me. Freeze the door, Annie.” 

Brianne only whimpers in her mother’s hold. 

Knight-Captain Eduards looks down at the mage before her with a detached expression and orders, “Freeze. The. Door.” When nothing happens, she places her hand on the top of Brianne’s head and tilts it backwards so that the young mage is looking up at her. She takes the pointer finger of her other hand and sets the tip of it on the middle of Brianne’s forehead. 

“This is where the mark will go,” she says. “You’ve seen what it looks like. Tranquil have come to the house before. You saw them walking around the Tower. What you haven’t seen is how the mark gets on their forehead. It’s a long piece of metal, like I use when I stoke the fire. The symbol is attached to that piece of metal. There are runes worked into it, runes for binding magic. The Knight-Commander will heat the metal in fire. Templars will hold you down until the Knight-Commander feels the metal is hot enough to burn clean through the first two layers of your skin. He’ll place the metal on your forehead while he completes the Right of Tranquility. The Knight-Commander is the only person in the Templar order that can do it. They will make me stand guard as your skin boils and burns, as you scream and thrash. Your father had a quick death,” the Knight-Captain’s voice finally wavers. Brianne can barely hear it through the thundering of her heartbeat and the icy fear branching throughout her body, but she sees the sorrow in her mother’s eyes. 

“He left this world with your face being the last thing he saw. His beautiful daughter…” A warm tear hits Brianne’s forehead and slowly follows the curve of the bridge of her nose. “Your death won’t be quick. It will hurt. And it will last. They will tear a piece of your soul from you, and the wound will fester until it finally takes you. I will not let them do it. _You _cannot let them do it. Freeze the door, Annie.”__

___Fear explodes out of Brianne’s hands in an icy, jagged burst. Frost grows from where her fingers meet wood, sealing the door where it fits into the wall. Brianne thrashes out of her mother’s hold. With tears of her own joining the remnants of her mother’s, she runs over to the open window. She launches herself at it, scrabbling her feet against the stone wall to clear it. She feels her mother’s hands at her waist a moment later, helping to lift her out. Brianne’s mind fills with memories of her father lifting her in the air as they dance around the living room, and her tears fall harder. With one final push she’s out the window, landing with a soft thud on the grass below._ _ _

___Her mother follows a second later. She takes Brianne’s hand and they race down the cobblestone path, keeping to the shadows as much as possible._ _ _

___A few blocks away from their home they veer left, down an alleyway Brianne has never explored before. She collapses on the ground, breath heavily as her mother pops the lid off an innocuous crate and gathers things out of it. Brianne recognizes the small knapsack she had been filling earlier that day. There were two more small, burlap sacks that her mother slings over her shoulder before taking Brianne’s hand again. They almost clear the alleyway when she hears shouting ahead. She’s yanked backwards into the shadows and made to crouch behind a stack of rotting barrels. Her mother’s beside her with her hand resting on the pommel of her sword._ _ _

___“She can’t have gotten far. She’s sure to still be in the city.”_ _ _

___“We can’t be sure that it was Eduards. It could have been anyone…”_ _ _

___“You think it’s just a coincidence that the Lords that killed Ser Eduards’ husband are found butchered in their beds? Right after their pardoning?”_ _ _

___“They weren’t married. Knight-Commander wouldn’t allow it. You remember the fit Eduards threw?”_ _ _

___“Doesn’t fucking matter. They had a child, for fuck’s sake! May as well have been married for all the time they spent together. You tellin’ me that you don’t think that Knight-Captain Annika-fucking-Eduards wouldn’t call the wrath of the Maker down on them that hurt her family?”_ _ _

___“She’s by-the-book, Tamil! Never a toe out of line. Expects as much from her men. You’d fucking know. Didn’t you spend a few months in her garrison?”_ _ _

___“And I got out as fast as I fuckin’ could. Scared the piss outta me, that woman. I can get away with so much more under Knight-Captain Auld. I’ll tell ya, just the other day I…”_ _ _

___“She’s probably gone to get her girl. The woman’s got steel balls enough to break in and outta the Circle. She’d know how to do it, too.”_ _ _

___“Nah. Everyone’s gone on alert since them Gallistons were found. They ain’t breakin’ in or outta anywhere. Where would they go, anyways?”_ _ _

___“I’d head for the docks, try to get on a ship outta here as fast as fuckin’ possible. Maybe catch one in Kirkwall since no one there’d know my face.”_ _ _

___“I’d head for Antiva. Heard the food’s good, the women’re friendly, and I could find easy work as hired muscle. Fuck, what am I still doing in this shitehole?”_ _ _

___The men get far enough away that Brianne can’t make out what they’re saying anymore. She stays silent and still, waiting for a cue from her mother that it’s time to run again. After waiting a long time, taking in the silence of the night around them, her mother finally releases both her breath and the white-knuckled grip she had on her sword pommel. She whispers, “Follow me,” and they take off again. Brianne stays close to her mother’s heels as they zig-zag their way through the darkened streets of Ostwick._ _ _

___They make it to the North gate before they run into anyone else. Brianne has never left the city before, but she saw her father off the one time he had to leave town to accompany the First Enchanter to something happening in Orlais. Brianne remembers watching him ride away in a rented carriage flanked by Templars on horses. She remembers his bright smile and promise that he’ll bring her something back from the famous Summer Bazaar, and her heart lurches. She wants to stop running. She wants to sit down and cry, scream, and beg for the life she lost when she chose to heal Caldwell Trevelyan. But she knows she can’t. She needs to be strong for her mother. She needs to be quiet and calm. She needs to be a good girl and just follow where her mother leads. Everything is going to be alright._ _ _

___They’re hiding in the shadow of an overarching roof when Brianne realizes they’ve been spotted. Her mother is staring at the gate, most likely thinking of ways for them to get through or around it, when Brianne sees one of the city guardsmen change his posture. He’s gazing intently in their general direction, and his loose-limbed lean against the tree he's near transforms into a soldier’s ready-stance. “Mama…” she whispers, but her mother doesn’t look down at her. When the soldier motions to another guardsmen close by, Brianne tugs on her mother’s sleeve and hisses “Ser!” as loud as she dares._ _ _

___Knight-Captain Eduards finally catches on. She pivots and lunges back into the side street they had emerged from, the guardmen’s chorus of voices following them. Brianne and her mother spend the next several hours dodging city guardsmen, Templars, and the occasional concerned citizen that steps outside of their home. Every time it seems they’ve been cut off, Knight-Captain Annika Eduards finds some way to hide, some way to avoid detection, some way to get past the obstacle. Brianne learns that her mother knows how to pick locks. The Knight-Captain also knows how to move silently, and how to incapacitate an adversary before they even make a sound._ _ _

___Just as the sun is peeking over the horizon, Brianne and her mother finally clear the town proper. With nothing around except for craggy outcroppings and rolling, grass-covered hills, Knight-Captain Eduards coaxes Brianne into a dead sprint for the beginnings of the Vimmark Mountain Range. Brianne can’t sustain that pace for long, and finds herself being scooped up by her mother and carried the rest of the way._ _ _

___What seems like an eternity later, they finally stop running. Brianne is set down on a small boulder at the base of a towering outcropping. Her mother collapses on the grass next to the boulder, panting and wheezing from exertion. Brianne makes to climb down, but her mother motions for her to stay put. It takes some time before the Knight-Captain can breathe easy again, and even longer before she speaks._ _ _

___“We need to find shelter,” she simply says._ _ _

___Brianne blinks at her, uncertain if she’s supposed to respond in some way. She settles on, “Yes Ser,” and jumps off the boulder. The two of them begin walking along the base of the range, keeping their eyes peeled for anything that looks promising._ _ _

___It's well past lunch time when her mother finally finds something for them. There's a medium-sized cavity where two jagged edges of mountain connect. The cave shows no signs of wildlife habitation, so they drop their bags and lay down. Brianne begins chewing mindlessly on the dried druffalo meat her mother gave her hours earlier that she hadn’t finished off. They lay in silence for a time, with nothing but the sounds of Brianne chewing and the wind whistling through the trees to accompany their thoughts._ _ _

___Brianne finally breaks the silence by whispering, “What are we going to do, Mama?”_ _ _

___“Hide,” is all the reply she gets._ _ _

___She waits a second before asking, “Where are we going to go?”_ _ _

___Her mother does not respond, but stands up and begins to remove her armor. Brianne watches as it’s dropped on the ground by their bags. “I’m going to see if I can find some water nearby,” Knight-Captain Eduards says, and vanishes through the cave’s entrance._ _ _

___Brianne doesn’t move from her spot on the ground. She keeps chewing on her dried meat. She stares up at the ceiling of the cave and is struck by the intense memory of lying this way in the Chantry, on a different kind of hard floor, staring up a different kind of darkened ceiling. Back then she hadn’t been anything but curious, suppressing all her emotions deep within and ignoring them. Now there is nothing but anger, and sorrow, and the purest terror she has ever felt in her life._ _ _

___She lies trembling in the cave for hours waiting for her mother to return, consumed by sword-shattering fear._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to everyone, no matter what religion (or lack thereof) you practice! 
> 
> Next up: We check on how Felix is doing. Poor baby.


	13. Trembling, I Called Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne visits Felix, goes on a scavenger hunt, escapes the castle, and reunites with Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maker's breath, this chapter kicked my ass. It was sooo difficult for me to write. I hope it's okay. The beta cleared it, so I'm sure it's okay. Some serious shit goes down, so fair warning. Oh my poor babies...
> 
> Trembling, I called out: "Forgive me, Most High,  
> I should sing Your Name to the heights of heaven,  
> But I know it not, and must be silent."  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

The creaking of door that led down to the dungeons was loud in the darkness. A single torch lit the stairwell that led down to the individual cells. The two guards that had unlocked the door stayed at their post on the other side, leaving Brianne to stumble down the stairs alone. When she cleared the stairwell and looked around the room it led to, she realized why.

Felix was the only captive they had. There were six cells in total, three next to each other along the east and west walls of the room. Again, a single torch was the only light source. If Brianne squinted, she could make out a door directly opposite where she came out of the stairwell. She had a moment to wonder where it led before she heard a gasping cough from Felix. She hurried over to the cell he was in, unhooking the small pouch at her hip full of healing potions and poultices.

“Oh Altus...” Brianne hiccuped, holding back a sob. 

“Don’t...you resort to...that nonsense...again,” he sputtered weakly, coughs wracking his entire frame as he sat on the disgusting, damp floor. 

He had undergone a transformation overnight. His skin seemed to be yellowing, and Brianne prayed it was only a trick of the light. She handed him an elfroot potion through the bars of his cell and had him turn around so she could look at the back of his head where he had been brained by the pommel of the soldier’s sword. It was hard to see any kind of bruising or swelling in this light, so Brianne resorted to magic to assess the damage.

There was a shallow gash at the point of trauma contact, which had just become infected, no doubt by the filth in Felix’s cell. It was simple enough to use her magic to burn the beginning infection away, then apply a salve to the gash. The elfroot potion Felix had just swallowed was doing it’s job, and Brianne determined there was little else she could do for him.

Other than feed him, which he desperately needed.

Brianne had been searched before she was allowed down the stairs. She had asked them what they were looking for before either Venatori had put their hands on her. Surprisingly, they had replied that no food, water, or weapons were allowed to be given to the prisoner. When Brianne had joked that Felix was a mage, and was inherently a weapon, they hadn’t responded. They simply unlocked the door and motioned for her continue on.

Now that she was with Felix, she realized why they weren’t feeding him. It wasn’t to torture him for information, it was to keep him from using his magic. 

One of the first things Brianne had been taught when she began her stay at Kinloch Hold was a very important secret mages kept from the rest of the world: their magic could sustain them. It was why apostates could live in the wilderness, why the first phylacteries were invented, and the greatest fuel for the Templars’ fears of Maleficar. If a mage was cut off from food or water, they could use their magic as fuel to keep themselves alive. No blood-magic rituals were needed, no specific, detailed spells required. A mage’s body would automatically begin converting their magic reserves into energy for their body to use. It wouldn’t keep them alive forever, but it would keep them alive significantly longer than any other person deprived of food and water. 

Brianne had always wondered if the phenomenon was a side effect, or a remnant of the time when the Elvhen had lived abundant on Thedas. Their history was deeply rooted in magic and their Creators. What if the thing that kept them immortal was their tie to an ancient magic, lost to the ages?

Now was not the time to dwell on that though. Brianne could tell that it was going on close to twelve hours since Felix had eaten anything, and even longer since he’d had water. His body hadn’t started tapping into his magic, but it would eventually. Once that happened, a mage lost access to their magic to use for spellwork. That was what the Venatori were counting on, why they were starving him. That was how they were assured of Felix being powerless in captivity.

Brianne dug to the bottom of her pouch to retrieved some dried strips of ram meat that had been wrapped in the same fashion as her poultices. That was how the guards had missed it. She didn’t have any water on her, but after handing Felix the jerky, she had him drink a lyrium potion. It was at least some kind of liquid, and it would assure that his magic would be at full capacity.

As he was eating and drinking, Brianne finally voiced her fears. “Felix, I don’t know what to do,” she began. “Calpurnia has allowed me to help you one last time, but she thinks I’m going to be joining her. She dissolved Fiona’s contract with your father.” Brianne winced at the callous way she brought up the former Alexius, but Felix didn’t, and motioned for her to continue. “But if I refuse, I know she won’t let me walk out of this castle.”

Felix swallowed and agreed. “You’ve seen too much, Enchanter. Calpurnia abhors slavery at its core. She sees death as a greater mercy. She would rather kill you than force you to work for her.”

“Do you know this woman, Altus? You acted as though you’d never met before introductions in the throne room.” 

Felix shook his head weakly. “No, I’d only heard of her from my father. He’d sometimes speak out loud as he wrote his correspondences, and several times I heard him writing to both Calpurnia and a Magister Erimond. He was always much more polite to Erimond in his letters than to Calpurnia. Now I know why.” He finished off the potion and handed the bottle back to her, coughing violently after he swallowed. Brianne took the empty vial and placed a soothing hand on his back through the bars of his cell. 

“So where will you go?” He asked her when he’d regained his breath.

“Calpurnia said something about sending me to the Emprise du Lion. There’s a Venatori force gathered there, and…”

“You’re not going,” Felix interrupted. 

“Altus, I…”

“No. My father is dead. I am Magister Alexius now, and I am ordering you to…” Felix trailed off as he coughed again. He began to laugh, and lowered his head. “ _Kaffas. _Listen to me. I can’t even begin to be imposing. To inspire fear and loyalty. Father would be ashamed.”__

Brianne’s hands shot through the bars to cup Felix’s face, forcing him to look at her. “Magister Alexius, if I am certain of one thing in this world concerning your father, it is that he loved you. His devotion to you was a force of its own. It commanded armies and shaped history. Nothing you have ever done, nor anything you will ever do, will cause you to fall from grace in his eyes. Remember that.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, Brianne holding Felix as best she could through the barrier of the cell door while he blinked back tears. Finally, he managed a weak smile and said, “Would you be willing to do one more favor for me?” 

She nodded yes and followed his gaze to the closed door off to her right, the one she had noticed earlier. 

“Once a day a few soldiers will go through there,” he explained. “They enter with empty knapsacks, but always leave with them full. I’ve never seen what they’re collecting, but I have a suspicion. Will you confirm it?” 

“So you want me to sneak around the dungeons?” Brianne clarified. 

“Yes. Try to find what they’re gathering. Or if there’s a passage that leads out and they’re meeting someone else to collect whatever it is they’re collecting. Don’t worry about being caught,” he assured her. “Today’s group of soldiers has already come and gone. I don’t ever hear any noises, so I’m fairly certain…” Felix was interrupted by a coughing fit. “...fairly certain there’s no other prisoners or guards farther in the dungeons,” he finished. 

“What about the guards at the door?” she asked, pointing towards the staircase. “They’ll get suspicious if I’m in here too long.” 

“If they come looking for you, I’ll stall them as best I can. You can always pretend that you thought there was another exit and got turned around. You’re an asset to Calpurnia as long as she thinks you’re joining her forces. She won’t do anything drastic, I hope.” 

Brianne gave a small, hysterical laugh. “This is probably one of the stupidest things I’ve done in a long time. I feel like I’ve been dropped in the middle of a Tethras novel." 

Felix grinned, looking for a moment like his old self. “I’ve always wanted to be a damsel in distress, saved by a beautiful, confident Knight-Enchanter.” 

Brianne let another hysterical giggle escape before she moved resolutely over to the door. She wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She dug through her apothecary pouch once more and pulled out a small, metal bar the length of her index finger, and another metal bar that was slightly hooked at one end. 

__“I see you’ve been holding out on me, Enchanter,” she heard Felix call from his cell behind her. She didn’t answer, simply continued to focus on picking the lock, and a moment later she was victorious._ _

__With a final glance behind her, she was opening the door and disappearing farther into the dungeons._ _

__********************_ _

__After the first few minutes, Brianne gives up all pretense of sneaking. Yes, her mother taught her how to pick locks, but a thief and a cutpurse she is not. Brianne is good at looking unimposing, at seeming meek and helpless, at going unnoticed. She had learned how to navigate two different Circle towers as well as the grand palace at Halamshiral without drawing attention to herself. Unless she needed to. She has no practice whatsoever in sneaking around places completely undetected (outside of her brief childhood, that is, which are memories and experiences better repressed)._ _

__Brianne walked as quickly as she could in the dim lighting, stumbling every once in a while upon a raised chunk of stone. Looking around, she didn’t notice anything other than wooden crates and empty jail cells. She stopped to open one of each in every room she walked through, hoping that whatever she was supposed to be looking for would be there and she could head back to Felix. She found nothing though, and kept moving deeper and deeper into the dungeons._ _

__She reached another set of stairs that led down to yet another level. She descended, but missed the last step in the darkness. She fell forward with arms outstretched and was able to catch herself against the wall. Using that momentum and force, she pushed herself back and rolled to the side, placing her back against one of the three doors that most likely led to three different branches of this section of the dungeon._ _

__She took a moment to catch her breath and slow the pounding of her heart. That was when she heard it: a distant noise from behind the door she had her back to. She would have missed it altogether if she hadn’t been straining to hear if the ruckus she had made falling down the stairs had attracted the attention of any nearby Venatori. She stayed perfectly still, listening for the sound again._ _

__There it was. It sounded like a voice, muffled and in pain. Before Brianne could make any rational decisions, she found herself turning and opening the door. She had half a second to wonder at the complete idiocy of her actions before she was assaulted with one of the most horrific scenes she had ever encountered._ _

__The dim dungeon was awash in a hard, red glow. Dessicated and rotting bodies were stuffed into all six of the cells in the room. Some were vaguely humanoid, while others were recognizable by their robes and facial features. All had one thing in common though: the red crystals sprouting from them._ _

Brianne fought the urge to wretch as she entered the room completely, closing the door behind her. The action brought her closer to the table in the center, which was littered with smaller pieces of the red crystals. She wanted to recoil from the sickly sweet sensation, the hypnotizing hum that washed over her as she neared it. The euphoria reminded her of the high she receives from ingesting too much of a lyrium potion, and her world tilted sideways. _It can’t be lyrium _she thought as she reached for it, intent on unraveling this mystery, enchanted by the red glow that seemed to become softer by the second.__

__A pained moan cut through the haze of Brianne’s mind just as her fingers were about to come into contact with one of the red crystals. The healing instinct in Brianne was enough to override the trance she seemed to be in. She forced herself to move around the table towards the cell where the sound came from. Once the table was behind her, it was easier for her to think, easier for her to focus. She made sure to give the red lyrium a wide berth as she approached her destination._ _

__The interior of the cell came into view, and the sight froze Brianne in her tracks. There, seated on the floor with her back propped against the wall, was Grand Enchanter Fiona. Her arms were wrapped around her abdomen, a look of excruciating pain marring her delicate elvhen features. Her eyes were closed, and she did not seem to notice that someone had stumbled upon her captivity._ _

__Brianne waited for her to open her eyes, but Fiona was lost in pain. The arms and hands covering her abdomen were spasming, and she was wracked by a tremor so painful she didn’t make any sound, only ground her teeth together and doubled over._ _

__Brianne moved to the lock and began to open the cell._ _

__It took a minute of kneeling on the grime covered floor, but the mechanism finally gave. Even as Brianne approached Fiona and settled on the floor next to her, Fiona didn’t notice anyone was with her until Brianne murmured a soft, sorrowful, “Grand Enchanter…” and reached for Fiona’s arms._ _

__Fiona recoiled and wailed. She pushed her body as far back against the wall as it could go, and eyes clouded over in pain flew over Brianne’s kneeling form._ _

__“Grand Enchanter, it’s me. It’s Brianne. Enchanter Brianne, from Val Royeaux. From your old Circle Tower. Please, it’s okay, I’m here to help.”_ _

__Fiona settled a bit, her eyes focusing on Brianne’s face. “You can’t help me anymore,” she wheezed. “I am beyond redemption.”_ _

__“I didn’t know you had a flare for the dramatics, Grand Enchanter,” Brianne teased as she checked Fiona over, searching for injuries. She tried to move Fiona’s arms away from her midsection, but Fiona wouldn’t budge. She whimpered again and tried twisting away from the healer, but she had nowhere to go._ _

__“How did you get here?” Fiona asked._ _

__“Never mind that,” Brianne replied as she gave up trying to move the elf’s arms. She hovered her hands over Fiona’s, sending out tendrils of magic to figure out what kind of abdominal wound the woman had._ _

__“You have to get out. Before they hurt you. Like the others. Like me. I tried to save them, tried to bargain. The Magister would not listen. We are nothing but farmland. Fields of wheat...”_ _

__Fiona’s outburst faded as her body was wracked with another convulsion. Her arms shifted enough for Brianne to grab a hold of one wrist and pull it away from her body._ _

__Abruptly, Fiona stopped struggling. Her arm went limp in Brianne’s grasp. And her eyes closed in defeat. She dropped the other arm shielding her midsection, and began muttering something too low for Brianne to make out._ _

__Brianne should have been horrified by the cluster of red lyrium crystals protruding from Fiona’s abdomen, but she wasn’t. Somewhere between picking the lock on Fiona’s cell and the Grand Enchanter’s acceptance of Brianne’s presence, the healer had erected a wall around her emotions. This was business as usual. Brianne would assess the damage done, and find a way to help the woman in front of her. There was nothing else but this task. There could be nothing else, if she was to succeed._ _

__“Alright. I need you to keep your arms at your sides while I take a closer look. I need to see how far the puncture is.”_ _

__“No…” Fiona whispered, but did as Brianne instructed._ _

__“I’m not going to touch anything yet, don’t worry,” she reassured the Grand Enchanter. “I need to assess the damage done to your muscles and internal organs.” This impalement explained why the woman was in so much pain. It could take days to perish from this kind of injury. Brianne needed to act quickly, especially if blood was pooling anywhere internally. She let her magic wash over Fiona as the woman began speaking again._ _

__“No...I wasn’t stabbed...with a lyrium spear…” the woman laughed weakly. “It’s inside.”_ _

__“Yes, it seems to have cut clean through your muscle wall…”_ _

__“No!” Fiona shouted, grabbing the hand that was hovering over her liver. “It came from inside. All of us. Farmland for the wheat fields. They forced it on us. They starved us til we swallowed, and it grew from within.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__Fiona began trembling again. She had captured Brianne’s hand in a vice grip and would not let go. “They starved us til we swallowed,” she repeated. “And it grew from within. I was one of the last. They took so many to the mines. There was no one to listen to me. No one to bargain with. We are less than people to these monsters. We…”_ _

__She let go of Brianne’s hand as her body seized. Fiona’s eyes rolled back in her head, body thrashing wildly. Blood came streaking out of her wound._ _

__Brianne lunged behind the woman. She wrapped her arm around her from underneath her armpits and drug her away from the wall. She set her down as gently as she could in the middle of the cell and stepped away. There was nothing more she could do but wait it out, and make sure the Grand Enchanter didn’t hurt herself thrashing against anything in the cell._ _

__The seizure lasted a good thirty seconds. It left the Grand Enchanter on her back, panting, staring up at the ceiling. Brianne waited a few second before approaching her. She knew most seizures left people feeling disoriented._ _

__She knelt next to Fiona and began rummaging through her satchel for an elfroot potion. Fiona stilled Brianne’s search by placing her hand on Brianne’s knee. “Look,” Fiona said, gesturing at her stomach._ _

__“Yes, it’s begun bleeding. I’m going to give you a potion and see about bandaging around the object. I don’t want to try removing it and contribute to the damage. I have a friend in the village who can help me, once we get to them.”_ _

__“No,” Fiona shook her head, gesturing again. “Look...it’s growing.”_ _

__“Grand Enchanter, it can’t...be growing…” Brianne began to say before she really looked at the lyrium cluster. It did seem larger than before, but it could be a trick of the light. Fiona could have dislodged more of it with her seizure._ _

__She lowered herself so her face was inches away from the injury. She looked closer, as Fiona instructed._ _

__Brianne shouted as she felt the lurium pulse, and watched it grow, propelling itself another few centimeters outside of the mage’s body._ _

_They forced it on us._

Brianne threw herself away the Grand Enchanter, scrambling away on hands and knees, the mental wall protecting her emotions crumbling to dust. 

_It came from inside._

Brianne was awash in Terror, pure and fetid. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Fiona, lying on her back in the middle of the cell, trembling as violently as Brianne was in light of her dawning realization. 

_It grew from within._

Brianne fought her unprofessional and cowardly behavior, but she couldn’t control herself. She couldn’t stop. All she could do was think about this room full of dead mages. How they had died. How they had suffered. 

_Farmland for wheat fields._

__Brianne screamed._ _

__It was idiotic. It was the response of a child. She couldn’t bring herself to care._ _

She was on her feet and outside of the Grand Enchanter’s cell before she really knew what she was doing. She heard Fiona call out to her, something about _reaping what has been sown _, but she didn’t stop, didn’t go back to figure more out. She flew through the dungeons, subconsciously tracing her earlier path. She had to get out. She had to get away from these monsters that murdered innocents slowly. She had to get Felix out. They had to get to Dorian, and go away. Anywhere. She would go anywhere as long as it was away from here.__

The last door crashed open and she was in front of Felix’s cell. She attempted to pick the lock, but her hands were still shaking. She heard Felix asking her what was wrong. Why was she crying? He thought he had heard a scream. Was that her? What had she found? _Fasta vass _woman, answer me!__

__Brianne finally ran out of adrenaline, and collapsed on the floor in front of Felix, sobbing. She was able to force out the phrases "red lyrium" and "mages dead” before the guards at the door came down the stairwell, demanding to know what was happening. Through her tears she saw Felix’s expression shift from confusion and worry to righteous anger._ _

__It was as though Brianne was in a tunnel. At the other end of the tunnel, she heard Felix ordering the guards to bring him both Calpurnia and his father’s pendant. He claimed that Brianne was crying because he had decided to help the Venatori and complete the spellwork his father had refused to. She heard the guards moving back up the stairwell as she tried to regain control of her emotions._ _

__“Brianne! Brianne, stop crying for one blighted minute and listen to me,” Felix ordered once the guards had left. She quieted as best she could and looked up._ _

__“I need to tell you this. You need to know as much as you can before you get help. My father and Dorian were partners a long time ago. They were working on research and spellwork concerning magic that might bend and shape Time. It was all theoretical. The spellwork they created could never be completed because magic doesn’t work that way. Or at least it didn’t until that giant green hole was torn into the sky.”_ _

__“Someone approached my father almost a year ago with a proposal. I never met them or saw who it was. They claimed they had a way to help him finish his life’s work. He went off with them and returned a changed man. He was a fanatic, claiming he could go back in time and rewrite history. That was how the Venatori were able to get to Redcliffe Castle so quickly after the incident at the Conclave. They went back in time and orchestrated events that led to where you and I are now.”_ _

__“I know why he did it,” Felix hung his head, shame written across his features. “He was trying to go back in time to when Mother and I were attacked. He was trying to save her, and keep me from getting the Blight sickness. That was how he discovered that the magic was tied to a fixed point in time. He could only travel backwards until the moment the Breach was opened. Never further. He was infuriated. He could travel anywhere in the world he wanted to go, but never past when the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded.”_ _

__“You...told those men to get Calpurnia. You said you’d finish his work…” Brianne said, thinking she’d misheard him._ _

__“Yes. I’m not really going to. I needed more time to talk to you alone. I’m also going to create a distraction so you can leave. You need to get to the Inquisition. You need to tell them about what has happened here. You need to tell them everything you know about the Venatori and their red lyrium. I knew my father was keeping something from me. I’m so sorry,” Felix clutched at Brianne’s shoulder through the bars of his cell, willing his regret and remorse to pass through to her. “I would have stopped him. I would never have allowed it. I should have acted on my suspicions sooner.”_ _

__“Felix...I can’t leave you here.”_ _

“Yes you can. That’s an order from Magister Alexius. And your friend. Don’t worry about me. As long as Calpurnia thinks I can help her, she will keep me alive. Go back to your room, gather your things, and wait for my signal. Then make for the village and get Dorian. The both of you should be able to make it to Haven just fine. Don’t let him come after me.” Felix grinned suddenly. “We both know Dorian would storm the castle himself if he thought he could secure my freedom. _Venhedis _, that man can be stubborn when he wants to be."__

__“Here,” he tugged at the ring on his pinky finger until it came loose, and tried to hand it to Brianne._ _

__When she saw what it was, she refused. “No. You keep it. If I’m leaving you here, then you can still talk to us through it. You can feed us information!” she exclaimed. “The Inquisition can’t turn us away if we provide them with minute-to-minute, inside information. Felix, it’s brilliant.”_ _

__“No. Please, you made these rings. They belong to you. You can use them in better ways,” he insisted._ _

__“What could be better than this?” she asked. She crossed her arms under her chest, refusing to take the ring from his outstretched hand. A strange look passed over Felix’s face, one Brianne couldn’t decipher._ _

__Finally, with a deep sigh, he put the ring back on his finger._ _

__Brianne heard a noise from the top of the stairwell and whispered, “What will be your signal?”_ _

__Felix smiled. “You’ll know it when you see it,” was all he said before Venatori came flooding into the room._ _

__********************_ _

__It was simple enough for Brianne to weave her way through the soldiers and head up the staircase. The last image she had of Felix was of one of a soldier unlocking his cell and handing him what seemed to be a necklace._ _

__The original guards at the top of the stairwell asked Brianne where she was headed. She told them she was going to her room to freshen up and make herself more presentable before meeting with Calpurnia. She asked if someone would alert her when the lady was done with Felix. One of the guards chuckled and said that Calpurnia was not going to meet with the prisoner. She was busy elsewhere, and was not at the beck and call of their captive._ _

__Brianne made for her room and hoped that Felix’s plan wasn’t spoiled with Calpurnia missing._ _

__Brianne had packed her things the night before, being unable to sleep well, so she had little to do except collect her bag. She decided to change out of her robes and into an outfit that wouldn’t easily mark her as a mage. Digging through her meager belongings, she collected a soft, lustrous cotton undershirt and a long-sleeved, everknit wool tunic. She changed into them, re-belting her apothecary satchel around her waist. The cotton leggings she normally wore under her robes would have to do for now, as she didn’t own anything hardier._ _

__Looking in the full-length mirror that was in Felix’s old room, Brianne began to laugh. It was a full-bodied laugh, causing her to grab onto the bed post to keep herself upright. Here she was, fretting over her wardrobe, while Felix was locked in the dungeons, playing a dangerous game he didn’t know if he could win. She had left Fiona, who was dying in agony, as Brianne worried about Felix._ _

__She had left a dying woman in agony._ _

__She had left a dying woman._ _

__She had left._ _

__Brianne’s laughter had turned into heaving hiccups and sobs. She wanted to go back. She needed to go back and help her. What had possessed her to run as she had? Her father would be ashamed. Her mother would never have run in terror from...anything. Brianne needed to go back and help the Grand Enchanter. She had left without learning all she could about red lyrium, anyways. If healing an injured friend wasn’t a good enough excuse to deviate from Felix’s plan, then information gathering certainly was._ _

__Right as Brianne has regained control and reached the bedroom door with her pack slung over her shoulder, a deafening BOOM shook the castle. Brianne toppled sideways into the wall and steadied herself. Out in the hallway she heard shouting and the pounding of armored feet racing across stone flooring. She opened her door and cautiously followed the mass of Venatori agents racing towards the lower parts of the castle._ _

__She made it to the dining hall before common sense kicked in. This was Felix’s signal. He said she’d know it when she saw it. A second BOOM thundered through the hall, causing chairs, tapestries, and people to fall over. Brianne crouched down and braced her hands on a nearby table. She hoped that Felix wasn’t doing something too stupid, but silently thanked him for the monumental distraction._ _

__It was nothing for her to walk over to one of the windows that had been smashed open by falling debris and hop outside through it. No one took notice of her. Everyone was racing around the castle, trying to find the source of the tremors._ _

__Even though Brianne had made up her mind to go back to the dungeons, she knew her plan had to change. Felix was undoubtedly the one making this commotion, which meant masses of Venatori soldiers would stand between her and Fiona. Saying a prayer to the Maker that he ease Fiona’s suffering, Brianne began making her way as quickly as she could towards the village._ _

__The irony wasn’t lost on her that just hours earlier she was creeping through the Redcliffe’s dungeons, putting minimal effort into moving undetected. Hours later, she’s moving through the forested land surrounding the castle, desperately trying to be as stealthy as possible. She stuck as close to the road as she dared, moving as fast as she could._ _

__She felt the sizzle of electricity on her skin before she saw anything. Traveling closer to the road, she heard swearing and shouting in Tevene, and heard the unmistakable swish and thud of a staff being used. A scream brought Brianne running into the middle of the road, ready to assist whoever was taking down Venatori agents._ _

__What actually happened was Brianne taking Dorian completely by surprise. He reflexively shot a lightning bolt at her._ _

__Brianne was able to fade-step away just as the bolt created a smoking crater in the spot where she had been standing._ _

“ _Fasta vass! _DO NOT do that to me,” he shouted at her as she took in the prone figures of two Venatori scouts on the road next to him. “Or do you have a burning desire to have your insides liquefied?”__

__Brianne didn’t answer him. Instead, she ran up and threw her arms around him._ _

“Oh. Well. This is...warn a man before you’re going to rumple his clothes like that, _amicus _,” Dorian said, awkwardly patting her back. “What is happening at that blasted castle of yours? Is Alexius redecorating via golem? I hear that’s all the rage in Orzammar these days."__

__Brianne’s stomach bottomed out at the realization that Dorian had no idea what had occurred over the last two days. Felix hadn’t contacted him, for some reason. She held onto Dorian, even though it was clear he wanted her to release him. She needed another moment to compose what she was going to say._ _

__“Brianne, do let go of the Fustian Velvet. It’s a nightmare to remove the wrinkles, and I swear I’ll make you deal with any lasting damage done to this travel cloak.”_ _

__Brianne knew Dorian well enough now to recognize when he was trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where he found himself at a loss. Joking about his clothes, commanding the conversation, let him feel more in control._ _

__Brianne held on for a moment longer, then stepped back, mentally bracing herself._ _

__“Alexius is dead. Felix is in the dungeon. We need to get to the Inquisition.”_ _

__Brianne felt she had done a sufficient job at summarizing, but Dorian just stared at her as though she was speaking Nevarran. “We need to go,” she repeated, reaching for Dorian’s hand. “Now.”_ _

__He flinched away from her and began walking up the road towards the castle._ _

__“Dorian! We need to go!” she called after him. “I’m sorry about your friends. Felix is creating a distraction so I can run. We have to run.”_ _

__“I’m not leaving him in that filthy place,” she heard Dorian hiss, although he didn’t turn around to say it. Brianne went after him, grabbing him by the arm and stopping his ascent._ _

“Do not do this to him! It was his choice. He does not want to be rescued. He gave me vital information to give to the Inquisition, and asked that I take you with me. Please, _amicus _.” She purposefully used Dorian’s word for her. He had said it meant ‘friend’ in Tevene. She hoped they had a deep enough friendship for him to trust her.__

__Dorian opened his mouth to say something, and was interrupted by the BOOM that seemed to shake the entire world around them._ _

__Brianne and Dorian watched in silent shock as a section of Redcliffe castle crumbled and collapsed in on itself._ _

__It was the section above the dungeons._ _

__“Felix,” Brianne whispered as Dorian sank to his knees in the dirt road. That part of the castle kept crumbling, kept falling in on itself until most of it had fallen down and away, creating a giant mushroom cloud of dirt that fell like a haze over the rest of the standing castle._ _

__“Felix...” she whispered again, because she didn’t know what else to say._ _

_Venhedis _Dorian spat as he sat on the ground.__

Brianne stayed standing exactly where she was, unsure what to do or say. One thing that kept running through her mind was, _At least Fiona’s not in pain anymore. _She didn’t know whether she should feel good or bad about that.__

Finally Dorian stirred. He stood and dusted himself off. Looking towards the wreckage of Redcliffe, he whispered _Vitae benefaria, amicus _, and turned towards Brianne. She looked into his closed-off expression and tried to reach for him. He stepped away, gave her a pained smile, and declared, “Well. It’s off to the Inquisition then. I do hope you know the way, Enchanter.”__

__With that, he pivoted and began walking down the path towards the village. Brianne followed after him, worried and heart-sick with the weight of all their losses._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I love you all. Thank you so much for reading this story. I can't even believe over 250 people have read it. I'm starting to get writer's block even though I have an outline and plan for everything, so if y'all can send me some good vibes, or suggestions, or anything, it'd be much appreciated. <3
> 
> Amicus is Latin for friend. At least, that's how it was used in another fic I read a long time ago, and I LOVED Dorian using it as a term of endearment.  
> Kaffas, fasta vass, and venhedis are, of course, swear words in Tevene.  
> Vitae benefaria is also Tevene. It's a way to say good-bye when addressing someone you respect.


	14. Long Have They Turned to Idols and Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne & her mother make their way to Markham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I am choosing to use my creative license to make cities/landmarks/Free Marcher States seem closer than the creators of Thedas probably intended them to be. Sorry if you don’t like the inaccuracy. *Sticks out tongue and scurries away to hide behind Dorian*
> 
> The Wellspring of All said, "None now remember.  
> Long have they turned to idols and tales  
> Away from My Light, in darkness unbroken  
> The last of My children, shrouded in night."  
> \--Chant of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

All in all, Brianne didn’t mind living in the vast wilderness of the Vimmark Mountains. Sure, she missed her soft bed and cotton-filled pillows. She missed walking to the Trevelyan manor and spending hours playing with Cal and Caspian. She missed traveling with her father around Ostwick, helping those in need of healing.

But things really weren’t as bad as she originally thought they’d be.

Her mother didn’t push them to travel very quickly. She would wake with the sunrise, and a few hours later Brianne would be woken by the smell of breakfast. Sometimes it would be grains cooking in the single cast-iron pan they had. Sometimes it would be a small creature roasting over the fire, whatever her mother had been able to catch in the dawning light. They would eat, pack up their camp, and move onward. They would walk for the rest of the day at an easy pace, stopping frequently to rest, forage, or hunt. Well, her mother would wander off to hunt while Brianne was left by a stream or brook. She’d wash whatever needed washing and wait for her mother to return with their dinner. They’d eat another small creature, usually a fennec or nug, then sit by the fire before turning in for the night.

That was Brianne’s favorite part of the day: lounging by the fireside with her mother. It reminded her of how they’d ended most of their days at home in Ostwick. The only differences were that they were outdoors instead of in their common room, and that her father wasn’t with them anymore. They spoke of her father a lot at night. With no one but the Maker and the stars to judge them (her mother would smile and say this), they would speak of the things they missed, the things that angered them, and the things they were afraid of. Brianne would fall asleep by the fire, listening to her mother softly singing her favorite verses of the Chant.

All in all, Brianne didn’t feel as though they were running for their lives. She felt as though they were on an adventure. They were simply people travelling away from an old life towards newer and grander opportunities.

********************

It took them a little over a week to follow the mountain range until it ended, the city of Markham visible in the distance when Brianne climbed a tree and squinted. That morning, while they ate their breakfast grain and late-season blackberries, Brianne’s mother finally disclosed her plan for their immediate future.

“It should take the rest of today and tomorrow to reach Markham,” her mother said around a mouthful of porridge. “I haven’t ever been, but I’m sure there are several inns or taverns with rooms for rent. I’ve enough silver for several days, maybe more if I can make a deal. Hopefully we won’t need longer than that.”

Brianne stayed quiet as she drank from their water skin, waiting for her mother to continue.

“Once we have a roof over our heads, I’ll need you to stay put. It should only take a few jobs from the Chanter’s board until I’ve enough money to buy us passage to Highever.”

“We’re going to Ferelden!” Brianne shouted, overcome with excitement.

Her mother’s expression was stern, mouth puckered slightly in disapproval. It was the same look her mother used to give her father to keep herself from laughing at his inappropriate jokes. Brianne’s heart stuttered in her chest, both sad that he would never again see that expression on her mother’s face, and happy that her mother hadn’t abandoned the habit.

Brianne quieted down and asked, “Why aren’t we staying in Markham?”

“It’s too close to Ostwick. It’s risky enough just being there for a few days. Speaking of, come here.” Her mother motioned for her to come stand directly in front of her, which Brianne did after cleaning off her spoon and putting it away in her pack.

Brianne sat in the middle of her mother’s spread legs while her mother began to unravel Brianne’s long braid. Her mother used to brush it all the time for her, and Brianne closed her eyes in bliss at the feeling of fingers moving through the long, blonde strands. “Why Highever?” she asked.

“Because of Donovan and Yvette,” her mother replied, referencing the Trevelyans. Brianne had never heard her mother speak so informally of them before. Her father had helped Yvette Trevelyan through her first two pregnancies, and would have helped bring the third Trevelyan heir into the world. He was on a first-name basis with the couple, but her mother had never been able to speak about either in such a candid way, at least in front of Brianne. “Donovan spoke highly of the Couslands that run the teyrnir of Highever. He thought I would be able to find work with them, and it’s as good a place as any to start afresh. We’re stopping in Markham because Yvette has an acquaintance that should be docked there for a while. She assured me that they would be sympathetic, and possibly give us a better rate for passage.”

Brianne hadn’t realized the Trevelyans had a hand in helping her mother plan their escape. Of course they wouldn’t believe the lies about Brianne’s father. They had known the real Enchanter Lochland. He had brought their children into the world and healed them when they were sick. It made Brianne wonder if Cal knew what had happened to her, and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

Once her mother finished unravelling Brianne’s simple braid, she began sectioning it off in a strange way. Brianne was asked to hold her head still while her mother moved parts of her hair this way and that, folding it in on itself and tying pieces off. Just as Brianne was about to ask what she was doing, she heard her heave a great sigh. Her mother undid all the work she had done and pulled Brianne’s hair back into a tail at the base of her skull. With a quick, practiced motion, her mother pulled a short dagger out of her boot and sheared off most of Brianne’s hair.

The resounding squeal could be heard all the way to Seheron. 

Her mother clamped her hand over her daughter’s mouth and hissed at her to stop her theatrics. Brianne quieted, but couldn’t halt the impending tears. “Why did you do that?” she demanded.

“I had to, Annie. I’m sorry. We have to change how we look so we aren’t spotted. That’s why I left my armor in that cave our first night. That’s why you’re wearing clothes you don’t normally wear. I have to cut my hair too. See? You can help.” Her mother prompted her to climb onto the log she had been sitting on when she butchered Brianne’s hair. She then knelt in the dirt in front of Brianne and held out the dagger. Brianne took it and waited for her mother to gather up her own hair and pull it back into a tight tail, just like she had Brianne’s.

“You don’t care about hair,” Brianne sniffed, awkwardly holding the weapon against the inside of her mother’s firstful of curls. Her mother reached back and placed her hand over her daughter’s, urging her to tighten her grip and move with force. Once it was over, Brianne watched as her mother’s golden waves slipped through her small hands and fell to the dirt.

“Papa loved my hair.” Brianne hiccuped once and sat down again, trying to keep from crying more. Her mother gathered her in her arms and shushed her, promising that everything was going to be alright, and that soon she’d be able to grow her hair back and have it any way she wanted.

********************

Her mother had been correct. Just as the sun began to dip below the tops of the mountains on the second day, the gates leading to Markham came into view. 

Brianne and her mother had joined the main roadway once the treeline had thinned to almost nothing. This far away from the mountains, there were only small, rocky outcroppings and rolling hills. Her mother had explained that the coastline of Markham was much rockier than Ostwick’s or Kirkwall’s. That was why the other cities were renowned for their shipping and trading industries, as well as their navies. Travel through Markham was often overlooked by seafaring voyagers and traveling merchants. It also happened that Ostwick’s and Kirkwall’s main cities were only a mile or two away from their coastlines. The city of Markham was a few days walk away from the only major port it had, which was usually too much of an inconvenience for most folk.

But it was perfect for a young apostate and her ex-Templar mother.

About a mile outside of the gates, the main road connected with a smaller one that seemed to follow the border between the states of Ostwick and Markham. Brianne and her mother were joined on the road by what seemed to be a small group of merchants. They were greeted with polite head-nods and murmured, “Messeres,” before they were ignored in favor of talking amongst themselves. 

Even so, Brianne’s mother took hold of her hand and forced a faster pace, making sure to keep slightly ahead of the group.

Dusk was starting to settle heavily in the sky when they heard a scream up ahead.

Brianne could make out people standing around a herd of rams. It was a small herd, probably only around ten animals. There were several men in uniform that could be city guards, and they were trying to help the farmer and his family lead the rams inside the gates. Brianne would have laughed at the spectacle, but a farmhand just older than Brianne screamed again, and she realized why. 

It had been hard to make out in the failing light, but there was another animal amongst the rams that was moving differently than they were. It sat lower to the ground, and moved at lightening speed. Brianne’s mother gasped as one of the rams collapsed with a pitiful groan and the creature descended on it.

It was a giant spider.

Brianne had thought she’d seen giant spiders hiding at the back of the larder at home. Those were not giant spiders. _These _were giant spiders.__

__Brianne and her mother had stopped moving toward the gate. The merchants had caught up with them and were hanging back as well. Brianne heard them speaking to each other, wondering what a mountain spider was doing so close to town, and why the city guards weren’t dealing with it instead of herding rams._ _

__All of a sudden one of the merchants shouted, “Maker preserve us!” He dropped the handles of the cart he had been pulling and shot towards the open city gates._ _

__Her mother turned around, scanning the horizon, seeking out any threat. It took the other merchants scattering before Brianne spotted what else was wrong._ _

__There were more spiders heading towards them._ _

__Between one heart-beat and the next her mother drew her sword and pushed Brianne towards the city. “Get inside,” she ordered, Knight-Captain Eduards stepping forward to protect and defend as she’d sworn to do for all the days of her life. Brianne did as instructed, and followed after the merchants._ _

__She had to run past the farmers though, who were still trying to get all their livestock inside. Only three rams were left running around, too swift for any one person to catch. It was a miracle they hadn’t taken off for the mountains by now. The single spider still by the gates had gotten tired to trying to catch them, and Brianne saw the exact moment when it turned its sights on the farmhand that bad been screaming._ _

__The spider spat something at the boy, and he dropped like a stone. It scurried towards its downed prey, the fangs protruding from its mouth moving in a horrific pantomime of chewing._ _

__No one was near enough to help him. Brianne was at least a yard away, but she had to do something. She was brave and good, just like her mother. Just like her father._ _

__Brianne and her mother had spoken about emotions triggering magic. Brianne hadn’t purposefully, consciously worked any magic without the help of a strong emotion. In this moment, Brianne reached deep inside and focused on her anger. She was angry about so many things. She had talked with her mother about most of them. They had little to do but talk as they traveled for days on end, but Brianne was still mad about many things._ _

__She threw her arms out in front of her body and brought her hands together in a loud CLAP. The tips of her fingers were pointing at the spider hovering over the farmhand’s body, and it erupted in a shower of crystalline icicles._ _

__Whooping, Brianne turned to find the next spider she could freeze when saw one of the other farmers. The woman was staring right at her with her mouth agape._ _

_Oh druffalo poop, _Brianne thought.__

____The woman’s gaze was locked with Brianne’s for a moment before she ran over to the boy, still unmoving on the ground. Brianne wanted to approach them, wanted to let the woman know she could heal whatever was wrong with him, but she didn’t. She had already ruined things enough._ _ _ _

Then the woman looked up and smiled. She gathered the boy in her arms, mouthed _Thank you _across the distance, and ran inside the gates, leaving the still-loose rams to their fate.__

_Maybe the Maker is watching over us _Brianne thought. That is, until she turned to see her mother surrounded by a cluster of giant spiders.__

Fear washed over her, and Brianne’s soul responded with a resounding _NO! _Never again. She had promised herself. Never again would she lay in the dark, shaking and crying. Never again would she be petrified or coerced by that emotion. Reaching inside herself, Brianne gathered the Fear. It spilled from her arms, ran in rivers around her, but she took all she could and she pushed it OUT.__

__________There was a strange, purplish flash, and one by one the spiders surrounding her mother turned and ran. They scrambled over rocks and bounced off of each other, scurrying as fast as they could away from where they had been moments before._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne is beyond pleased with herself, until her mother turns to look at her. Disappointment is written across her features, and her gaze sharpens and moves beyond her daughter. Looking over her shoulder, she sees a few of the city guardsmen have returned from helping the farmers, and they’re headed straight for her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Run!” her mother shouts, sheathing her sword and turning back down the road. Brianne wants to shout after her mother. She wants to know why they need to run. That farmer didn’t take any issue with her helping her boy. Maybe the city guards want to thank her? Maybe they’ll offer them a place to stay for the night for being such brave, good people._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne couldn’t do any of that though, as her mother had already started running down the road. All she could do was pick up her pack and race after her mother in the dying light of the day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne almost lost her mother in the darkness. Luckily, her mother could still see her, and called out to Brianne as she passed where her mother had begun setting up camp._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne walked over to her, panting as she tried to catch her breath. She dropped her bag next to her mother’s and waited for the inevitable._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Knight-Captain Eduards was digging a shallow hole in the ground. It was perfectly situated in front of a boulder so it would be protected from the wind that tended to pick up at night. Brianne watched her mother dig their fire pit, waiting for her to order Brianne to do something, or at least to begin chastising her for ruining their plans of staying in Markham._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nothing ever came. The Knight-Captain built their fire, and it wasn’t until it was assembled and sparking to life did she ask Brianne to dig through her pouch to find something for them to eat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m sorry,” Brianne said as she looked for their supply of foraged nuts and vegetables._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I know,” was her mother’s reply. She didn’t look over at her daughter, just kept staring into the growing fire._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne sat down next to her with a handful of mushrooms, dried blackberries, and some pinecones that she hadn’t broken apart yet. Her mother took the cones and proceeded to inspect them, trying to figure out whether there were seeds inside or if they needed to be boiled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Annie...” her mother sighed, eyes still on here work, “Sometimes bad things have to happen to in order for good things to.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mother sighed again. “I mean that...sometimes things that you don’t like have to happen in order to keep you and other safe. Sometimes bad things happen, and you have to let them. A bad person is executed to keep everyone else safe. A mage is made Tranquil in order to keep everyone else safe, and to save their own lives. A spider attacks a poorly protected herd of livestock. A ram might die, but the rest can get to safety, as well as the farmers watching them.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“But it wasn’t the ram!” Brianne shouted indignantly. “It was getting the boy.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mother blinked in confusion for a second, and then turned back to the pinecones. “Alright. I see why you helped, but baby…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m not a baby.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Knight-Captain Eduards glared back at her. “Yes, you are. You’re a child, Brianne. I understand why you helped the farmers, but you shouldn’t have. You should have done what I asked and gotten to safety. From now on, you listen when I tell you what to do. I will keep us safe and alive, but only if I can trust you to do what I tell you, when I tell you. Do you understand?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne shook her head in affirmation, but still asked, “Why did you fight the spiders, then?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“One spider focused on its dinner isn’t a threat to us. The cluster of spiders would have reached us before we got to the gates. I wasn’t helping anyone but us. There is _nothing _in this world more important than your safety, and I will do whatever it takes for us to get away from all this, to go somewhere you can be safe and happy."__

__________Brianne felt numb inside. Her mother was a protector. A defender. She wore shiny golden armor, and fought criminals and corrupt mages. She kept peace in the city and Circle Tower. She fostered good will between the Templars and Mages, and between the nobles and Mages. She was a paragon of virtue and righteousness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________What had happened?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Papa would have helped,” she whispered, hands clenched in the hem of her loose tunic. “Papa helped everyone. Even people he didn’t like. Mean people. He said, ‘A…’” Brianne choked on a quiet sob. “‘A handful of kindness is all it takes.’ He said if everyone gave a handful of kindness, the world would be a better place.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mother didn’t say anything, just reached out and scooted Brianne closer to her. She held her daughter as she worked through her sorrow and confusion._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We can’t afford to be kind right now,” her mother responded a while later, after they’d eaten their meager dinner. “I know Nolin...I know Papa wouldn’t agree, but I promise baby,” her mother placed a soft kiss on top of her head, “I promise that when we’re safe and settled, things’ll go back to the way they were. You can be as kind and as generous as you want to be, but for now we have to not draw attention to ourselves.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What if I can’t help it?” Brianne asked. “What if it’s like it was when the men tried to take me? What if I get scared and do something?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mother turned in front of the fire so that she was facing her daughter instead of sitting next to her. She reached out and took Brianne’s hand. “I will try to help. I know I’m not a mage, but I will teach you what I can. I was thinking of showing you some breathing techniques that help with control…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mother continued, speaking of things she’d learned as a Templar that might be of use to a growing mage. Brianne let the words wash over her, enjoying the sound of her mother’s voice, and missing it terribly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A mouse had emerged from a nearby rocky outcropping and had scurried over to their fire to warm itself. It looked up at her and said, _Glad to see you don’t need any saving this time._

____________“Hello Mouse,” Brianne greeted, eyes still on her mother as she spoke of meditation and mindfulness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_I had been wondering why I’ve never seen you with a staff. Mages usually manifest one in the fade in order to feel more secure. Silly humans and your insecurities. They’re only fuel for the demons._

______________“What does any of this have to do with me not having a staff?” she asked, finally looking down at the large brown mouse curled up by the fire._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_It makes sense. I take it you didn’t get any formal training until you were caught and forced into your Circle, yes?_

________________Brianne frowned and looked back at her mother. “We were never caught. Mother was too good for that to happen.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Semantics, my dear. You weren’t trained in the traditional sense until you were older._

__________________She shrugged. “Walking around with a staff strapped to your back is a dead give-away. I was six years old here, by the way.” She gestured at herself. She was still in the form she had taken during her dream-memory. “Apprentices don’t get staff training until they’re closer to the Harrowing-age.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_So why don’t you have one now? Or do you?_

____________________“I don’t,” she confessed. “I’ve never really needed one. Combat magic has been prohibited my entire life. It was dumb luck that I figured out how to cast Winter’s Grasp and Fear at all, or any of the other spells I learned outside of creation magic. Do you really not know why most healers don’t carry staffs?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Mouse looked up at her, his black, beady eyes watchful and calculating._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Healers don’t need staffs for their brand of magic. We deal in physical bodies. The best connection we can make is by using _our _physical bodies as the conduit for our magic in place of a lifeless, wooden stick.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________Mouse made a chittering noise Brianne hadn’t heard before, but didn’t say anything else. “I could get a staff, I suppose, but I’ve never really needed to defend myself, outside of this phase of my life. As you saw, I can still cast combat spells without a staff. They’re just not as potent as they would normally be if I used one.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_At least I know what to get you for Satinalia, _Mouse joked.__

________________________Brianne choked on the water she had started to take a drink of. “Like you’d know when it was Satinalia for me,” she laughed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_I’m counting on you to tell me._

__________________________“Sure,” she said, finishing her water._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_So why did you come here, now? Missing dear old mum? Trying to remember a life-lesson learned?_

____________________________“I do miss my mother,” Brianne said, watching as the woman they were speaking of settled in by the fire under her thin blanket. Her mother hadn’t sung her to sleep that night._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_But?_

______________________________“I am currently on the run again. I guess my subconscious wanted to be helpful and have me remember what that is going to be like.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_And what are you running from? I must confess I can’t remember what exactly you were up to the last time we spoke._

________________________________Brianne spent the rest of the dream speaking to Mouse about Felix, Calpurnia, the Venatori’s plans, and how in Andraste’s name she was going to survive it all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A group of spiders is called a cluster. I researched that shit. Also, I love that I can turn to my husband and ask him questions like, “What’s the end of the growing season for blackberries?” or, “What vegetables grow in rocky, mountainous areas?” and he can immediately tell me. Or at least hand me his Peterson Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants of Eastern/Central North America. Great. Now y’all know where I live.


	15. In Arrogance Wrought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne and Dorian's trip to Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up: My beta has been out of town for a while and I got impatient, so this chapter has not been proofed by anyone other than myself. Please leave a comment if you see any errors, either grammatical or content related. Thank you!
> 
> World fell away then, misty in mem'ry,  
> 'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams  
> A vision of all worlds, waking and slumb'ring,  
> Spirit and mortal to me appeared.  
> "Look to My work," said the Voice of Creation.  
> "See what My children in arrogance wrought."  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

Brianne traces her finger across the map in front of her, following the clearest path from Redcliffe to Haven. For what seems like the tenth time in the last half hour, she hears Dorian huff and mutter something under his breath. She’s too far away and he’s too quiet for her to make it out, but it surely has something to do with the fact that he’s having a difficult time packing all of his belongings into one small, manageable knapsack. 

She hides her small smile behind her mug of watered down ale, grateful that he has something to focus on outside of his grief.

With that thought, her own is back again in full force, and she grits her teeth against the pang in her chest. She cannot dwell on it now. In order for Felix’s sacrifice to mean something, they must get to Haven. They must get to the Inquisition.

Brianne studies the other ways that she and Dorian might travel to Haven, not offering him any help or trying to engage him in conversation. The walk back to the Gull and Lantern had been silent and tense. She instinctively knew no platitudes or philosophical olive branches would be welcome. Dorian was singular in his focus once they got back to his room above the tavern, and Brianne left him to deal with his belongings on his own, ready to assist if he asked her to.

As she finishes her ale and sets it down on the small table in the corner of the room, a crash is heard from outside the open window, along with frantic shouting. Brianne rushes to the window, attempting to be circumspect as she looks outside. Taking in the scene below her, her heart descends even further into regret and anger.

Venatori soldiers have begun to flood the village. Traveling merchants attempt to defend their makeshift booths as soldiers ransack their goods and search their nearby carts. Shop owners are ushering families inside before barricading their doors. One shopkeep isn’t fast enough. Two soldiers barrel their way through the closing doors, and Brianne can hear the screams of those trapped inside.

Dorian has joined her at the window, and they both watch as men and women swarm out from the lower level of the tavern, drawing their swords and joining what’s left of the city guard as they begin to fight off the cultists. 

“They’re looking for me,” Brianne whispers in horror as a woman is drug from her hiding spot out into the light. The Venatori agent grabs the woman’s face and holds it towards the sun, turning her this way and that, as though attempting to recognize a disguise. The woman spits in his face, and faster than Brianne can blink, the woman is now lying in front of the fountain with a sword protruding from her chest.

Brianne muffles a cry and spins away from the window, snatching up the map and her bag. She doesn’t need to say anything. She can feel Dorian two steps behind her as they make their way down the stairs.

The tavern owner meets them at the bottom of the staircase. Brianne has never bothered to learn the man’s name, and all of a sudden she is ashamed of herself for it. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as he asks, “One of you was responsible for that big what-for up at the castle earlier, aye?”

Before Brianne can decide whether or not they should lie, Dorian answers the man. “Indirectly, yes. Are you going to throw us to the wolves, ser? Throw wide your doors and proclaim, ‘Here are the mages that blew up Redcliffe castle!’”

The tavern owner responds with a feral grin, sliding a wicked-looking dagger from his boot. “If I was you two, I’d find myself in the kitchen. A commotion like this would leave me feelin’ a bit peckish.” With that, he turns around and heads back through the open archway that leads to the barroom. 

Dorian and Brianne briefly share a glance and finish their descent down the staircase. They pass by the archway, and Brianne takes a second to see what the proprietor of the establishment is up to. He’s sat himself on a bar stool, facing the doorway, with a murky bottle of liquid sustenance in this hand. His legs are propped on another chair and his dagger rests atop both thighs. Catching her eye, he raises his bottle in a small toast and begins to whistle a tune.

She nods her head in thanks and follows Dorian to the kitchen.

“What in the Imperium are we supposed to accomplish in here? Ah…” she hears Dorian speaking to himself, catching up with him a few seconds after he enters the room. She pockets a few apples, half a loaf of bread, and a small wheel of hard cheese as she watches Dorian poke his head out of the propped-open door that leads behind the tavern.

He gives her the all-clear, and they’re slinking outside. Dorian falls behind her, trusting her to get them out of the village undetected.

Being detected isn’t going to be a problem, as it turns out. So many villagers have taken up arms against the Venatori, no one is available to continue searching buildings and streets. The villagers are severely outnumbered, though, and several times the only thing holding Brianne back from exposing them is Dorian’s iron-clad grip on her bicep.

A little boy is crying, hiding behind a large canvas sack as his father lies unconscious in the road in front of him. The man is bleeding from a head wound. Across the square, a woman without armor swings a greatsword she’s taken from a downed Venatori soldier, attempting to keep anyone from entering the shop she’s taken up guarding. Fatigue pulls at her muscles, and the Venatori close in as they see her stamina flagging. Down by the docks, Brianne hears a scream and sees fire erupt in a blazing pillar. The scent of scorched flesh is caustic in the air. Each time Brianne notices these things happening, she moves to help, her conscience shouting at her to _Do something! Help them! _Each time Dorian is there, keeping her focused, keeping her from straying from their mission: get out of town and get to Haven.__

__She wants to scream. She wants to cry. She wants to rage at every Venatori cultist on the face of Thedas. She wants to freeze every single soldier attacking Redcliffe village and personally hack them into tiny pieces before throwing those pieces into Lake Calenhad._ _

__She does none of those things. She listens to Dorian's voice and keeps moving. She reminds herself that while she may feel as though her actions are cowardly, they’re not. She may be running, but she is helping. She’s honoring Felix. She’s heading to the Inquisition._ _

__********************_ _

__Five days later they finally stop running._ _

__Not that they were running non-stop for five days straight (even though it felt like it). Brianne had set a hard pace, resting only when either of them needed to relieve themselves, hide, or collapse from exhaustion. Meals were eaten on the move, and they never slept longer than four or five hours put together._ _

__Brianne can’t help but feel her mother would be proud of her. It was an impromptu evacuation and cross-country escapade worthy of Annika Eduards herself._ _

__Dorian is breathing heavily, still recovering from the last mile she insisted they jog. The man had impressed her. He only spent the entirety of their first day complaining, along with a host of other theatrics. When he realized his words were falling on deaf ears, he gave up the pastime and began conserving his energy._ _

__They had needed all the energy they could spare._ _

__She sits down on a flat-ish rock in the middle of the clearing they stumbled upon, dusting pristine snow off it so her travel cloak won’t be soaked through. She asks Dorian if he will set up camp, and he goes about it with a heaving sigh. Brianne shakes her head, giggling at the Tevinter mage. She gives herself another minute of rest before pushing herself away from her seat to help him._ _

__They work in silence for a while, Brianne collecting kindling for the fire they will eventually build while Dorian finds a sturdy, low-hanging branch to begin stringing up their tent. Dorian breaks the silence first, surprising her with a question._ _

__“So how many times have you done this before?”_ _

__She looks up from the pile of kindling. He’s not looking at her, but she can tell from his tone that it’s a serious question. “I don’t have an exact number, but I can tell you that it’s more times than I can count on one hand.”_ _

__Dorian glances over his shoulder at her, most likely to see if she’s joking or not. She’s not, and she can see the exact moment he realizes it. “Why do you ask?”_ _

“Oh, just the way you’ve been acting, _amicus _. Ever since we cleared Redcliffe village, you’ve been…” Dorian waves his hand in the air, like he’s trying to magically conjure the right words. “Focused. Driven. Authoritative. Economical. If we had just met, I’d swear you were military. It’s been, ‘Rest here. Eat now. Hide for this long,’ and so on.”__

Done with both of their tasks, the mages settle on the ground in front of their makeshift tent. Brianne begins trying to light the fire, listening to Dorian as she works. She happily notes that he’s calling her _amicus _again, which means he can’t be too mad at her for everything that’s happened.__

______“We only had so many rations from what I packed and what you liberated from the kitchens, and they’ve lasted us perfectly. Not that I enjoy eating three bites of stale bread and a slice of cheese for lunch every day, mind you. But we’re alive. And somewhat healthy, if not filthy.” Dorian picks up the edge of his cloak and shakes it, as though he could dislodge all the dirt and sweat from it, making Brianne giggle again.______

 _ _ _ _ _ _“When it came time to hide, or time to sleep, you always found an advantageous spot. Not that I’m an expert on hiding places for fugitives, but even I could tell that the cover you found was remarkable, given your unfamiliarity with the area.”______

 _ _ _ __ _ _ _

______“But I do know the area,” she admitted._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you?” he prodded, when she didn’t say anything else._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne sighed, rummaging through her pack for the last of the cheese. “I was an apostate before I joined the Circle of Magi. No, I need to start farther back than that.” She hands Dorian some cheese and settles more comfortably on the cold, hard ground._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I have an incredibly complicated and tragic life story,” she warns the man sitting next to her._ _ _ _ _ _

______He merely grins. “Don’t we all?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne snorts and continues. “My father was a Senior Enchanter at Ostwick’s Circle of Magi. My mother was a Knight-Captain of the Chantry’s Ostwick chapter.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh my,” Dorian breathes. “That definitely sounds like the beginning of a tragedy.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Ostwick was incredibly lenient with its mages. Sure, they had to live in the Tower and everything else that comes with being part of a Circle, but life was good there. They allowed my father to live in the city with his family. He made house-calls to those in need--he was a healer as well. Anyone was allowed in the tower to meet with any of the mages. Friends and family could visit, send letters, give gifts. The templars weren’t fearful. They were friendly. Very few mages were made Tranquil. Life was peaceful.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sensing a ‘but’...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But there were dynamics in play that I didn’t understand as a child. I came into my magic when I was six. It was early in the day, and my parents brought me home to pack. I was going to move to the Tower with my father when he reported in the next morning. That decision, that inaction, was the tipping point for those in the city that thought mages should be treated more harshly.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne stops for a moment to take a bite of food. Dorian waits for her to chew and swallow, not filling the silence with any unnecessary words. This was one of the reasons Brianne was friends with this ridiculous man._ _ _ _ _ _

______“My parents were figureheads in a struggle neither of them knew was happening. Or maybe they did. I’ll never know. Anyway, my father and I were alone in our home when a group of noblemen broke in. Long story short, my father ended up with a knife in his throat and I ended up locked in the Chantry.” Dorian’s hand found hers and slowly helped unfurl the fingers she had clenched around a portion of her travel cloak. He placed her hand in his and didn’t let go until she was done with her story._ _ _ _ _ _

______“My mother broke me out of the Chantry, got us out of town, and we were on the run for almost four years. That’s what I’ve been doing, while we’ve been running. Channeling her. Every time we needed to stop, I thought, ‘Where would Mother hide?’ And so on.” Brianne laughs, and it’s a bittersweet sound. “I half expect her to drop down from one of these trees and scold me for how I’ve build our fire.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Now that I would pay to witness,” Dorian laughs along with her. “I’m sure she’d be very proud of our dashing escape and perilous journey through the Ferelden Hinterlands.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh that’s right. I forgot to say. Mother and I took a ship from the Marches to Ferelden. When we finally stopped running, it was here. We ended up in Redcliffe. That’s how I know the land so well. That’s how I know the fastest way to Haven.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Speaking of, we need to figure out how to approach this Inquisition. First impressions are everything, _amicus _. We need to capitalize on ours.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________Both of them look over their shoulders towards the northern section of the surrounding trees. They’re only about a mile away from the town of Haven, but the forest is so dense they can’t see much in the distance. As the sun had started to set, Brianne had decided they would spend the night here. They needed to fortify themselves and plan for any and all outcomes of their meeting with the Inquisition._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The world around them had fallen to darkness, their food had been polished off, and the fire was close to dying by the time Brianne and Dorian had finished deciding how the Inquisition should be approached, who would do the talking, what they would say, and how they would escape if things turned sour. Dorian stood, raising his arms above his head, his fingers curling into his palms as he stretched. He moved to the fire to add more wood, and Brianne began rummaging through her pack to see if she had anything to write on. She was cursing herself for not having a single scratch of spare parchment when she felt the woods around them go still._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She freezes, ears straining to hear even the quietest of sounds. The fire pops when Dorian places a branch full of sap in it. She shushes him, and he stills when he sees her posture and expression. They both wait in silence, the feeling in Brianne’s gut telling her that they are in danger. They are being watched by something that means them harm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I don’t…” Dorian begins to say, turning his back on where he was facing earlier. It is then that she sees it, a silver flash in the darkness. Acting purely on instinct, Brianne erects a barrier covering both her and Dorian. If it’s a wild mabari or wolf, their teeth won’t penetrate it. If it’s a person, they’ll see two apostates ready to defend themselves, and hopefully be deterred._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The hope is in vain, though, as seconds later an arrow flies through the air to crash into the tree canopy above their heads. It explodes on impact, and several large branches come crashing down into their barrier, shattering it. Dorian and Brianne have to dive and roll out of the way, separating from each other. She hears Dorian shout something in Tevene and watches him propel himself up and into the dark forest, leaving her alone at their campsite._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She’s deciding whether or not to try and follow him when she hears a blood-curdling scream. Decision made for her, she summons a wisp of light to hover just in front of her, and she takes off in the direction she thinks Dorian went._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Venatori scout hadn’t made it far before Dorian caught him. It only took a minute for Brianne to emerge from the forest to find the scout trapped in a small static cage. Dorian is simply standing there, looking far too pleased every time the man tries to slip free of the cage and screams in agony._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Dorian, someone will hear.” Brianne isn’t sure what she’s trying to ask of her friend, only that she wants him to stop torturing the person in front of them. The anger and vengeance she’d felt while in Redcliffe had burned off somewhere between only getting four hours of sleep every day and trudging through the outskirts of the Frostback mountains. Now she only feels pity for the poor man lying supine on the ground, panting as smoke wafts up from his singed clothes and hair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Dorian releases the spell and the cage dissipates. The scout curls into a tighter ball, hand grasping for his left boot. Before Brianne can do anything, a bolt of lightning shoots from Dorian’s staff, and the man is dead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Neither say anything. Brianne walks over to the body and begins searching it for anything helpful. Dorian stays where he is, his heavy breaths loud in the silence of the night._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Having not found much of anything, Brianne takes the boot-knife off the scout and offers it wordlessly to Dorian, but he is staring off into the distance. She stands and softly says his name, but he is focused, squinting into the dark horizon. She turns to look in the direction he’s gazing when she hears a sharp intake of breath._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He storms past her, to the edge of the rocky overlook they seem to have stumbled upon. The Hinterlands are spread out below them, the moonlight shining off of Lake Calenhad in the distance to the south. It would be beautiful if she wasn’t so worried about what Dorian was worked up about._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Dorian…” she repeats, but he shushes her and points._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“There. You see it? Tell me you see it too,” he whispers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne gives it a minute, squinting into the dark landscape, trying to distinguish landmarks by the light of the moon. She’s about to tell him she doesn’t see anything, when there’s a ripple across the hills to the east of where they are. She squints harder and waits, dread spilling into her gut when she sees it again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Is that…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“A large group of people out for a stroll in the middle of the night without any light source to guide them? I believe it is.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“ _Amicus _, we just eliminated a Venatori scout. Despite whatever objections you’re about to make, I’m fairly certain that we are being followed.” Dorian takes her hand and begins to hurry back to camp.__

__________“No. No one saw us leave. They can’t be following us. Maybe it’s just the group Calpurnia was sending to the Emprise,” she argues._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Regardless, there is a massive Venatori force just outside of the Frostbacks. Plans need to change.” They’ve made it back to camp and Dorian is gathering up Brianne’s belongings and shoving them into her pack.  
“You’re leaving tonight.” _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

She stands her ground. “ _We’re _leaving tonight.”__

“No. You heard me. _You _are going to Haven. Tonight.” Dorian goes to hand Brianne her pack, but she crosses her arms and gives her best impression of her mother when she was cross with one of her men.__

It only makes him smile and raise an eyebrow, the entire expression saying, _You’ll have to do better than that._

________________“I’m not leaving you here,” Brianne insists._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Yes, you are. Someone needs to keep an eye on that army. If they’re heading to the Dales, the Inquisition needs to know. If they’re heading to Haven, the Inquisition needs to know. We’ve already decided that you will be acting as our ambassador, so it only makes sense that you leave the evil, Tevinter magister behind. Much less incriminating.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brianne huffs, but takes her pack from him. “You have to promise me that you won’t do anything. Keep the camp where it is, and hide if you have to. _Do not _do anything stupid or heroic Dorian, I mean it. Promise me.”__

__________________“Cross my heart,” he says, while miming the action._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Somehow she knows he’s lying. She can see it in his smile, hear it in his voice, but she doesn’t call his bluff. Instead, she sets her pack down and throws herself at him. Even though they’re friends, he doesn’t like displays of affection like this. He’ll usually make a joke about his hair or clothing to brush off how uncomfortable this kind of intimacy makes him. Brianne has been good about respecting that, but right now she  
needs to be selfish. She’s terrified she will never see her friend again, and indulges in what she wants and needs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum, amicus _,” she says in his ear, something Felix taught her a long time ago. Dorian tenses even further in her hold, and then surprises her by placing a soft kiss to her hair.__

____________________She releases him and turns away. Grabbing her pack, she starts off towards Haven at a jog, praying that she will be well-received, and that Dorian will be returning to her, unharmed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updating. My brother, bless is blighted heart, got me Dragon Age II for Christmas. I had skipped it because reliable sources told me it was total and utter crap. My brother called me out on my dedication to the fandom, seeing as I hadn't even played the second game. So that's all I've been doing with my free time since the end of December. I had to stop and force myself to write this chapter. The good news: I'm on the third act, so my attention won't be divided for much longer.
> 
> Can I also just say that it pisses me off how many characters slut-shame Isabella like, ALL THE TIME. Makes me totally sick to my stomach. I just wanna reach through the tv and bitch-slap some sense into them. Leave her the fuck alone people. You do you, Isabella. Everyone else can go to hell.


	16. Cross'd My Heart With Unbearable Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes for Brianne and her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ealga = ALE-guh
> 
> There I saw the Black City, towers all stain'd,  
> Gates once bright golden forever shut.  
> Heav'n filled with silence, then did I know all  
> And cross'd my heart with unbearable shame.  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, The Maker Appears to Andraste

Brianne winced and delicately picked a splinter from the side of her thumb, careful not to let any blood drip onto the dough she’d just kneaded together. Sending a small pulse of healing magic to her injured digit, she wiped her finger off on the apron Ealga let her borrow and finished sectioning off the dough. She covered the two ovals in a large cloth and left them to proof in the warm kitchen.

As Brianne cleaned off the work table, she looked out the window, trying to spot her mother in the wheat fields. The sun was in her eyes, though, and she couldn’t make out which field hand was which off in the distance.

Brianne heard the front door of the house open, and Ealga shouted, “Briony! Need some help here, lass.”

“Coming!” Brianne answered, climbing down off the small stool she’d been using to reach the kitchen work table. Taking off the apron, she wiped her hands on it and set it on the stool, hoping that’d help her remember to clean it later.

Rounding the long half-wall that separated the kitchen from the rest of the lower level of the house, Brianne made her way to the front entrance. She saw Ealga juggling several packages as she held the door open for Kris to bring in a few more. Brianne took her place, holding the door open to allow the elderly woman and her nephew into the house with their purchased goods. 

“How was Kirkwall, messere?” Brianne asked Ealga after the woman had deposited and organized the packages. Kris had left to join the workers in harvesting the last of the season’s crop.

“It hasn’t changed a whit since I was there last. Too many people crammed inta one place, if ya ask me. Not enough space fer a person ta breathe.” Ealga demonstrated by taking a comically deep breath, making Brianne giggle. 

“How were things while I was gone? You and yer ma didna have any troubles, I hope.”

“No troubles, messere,” Brianne answered. Other than the unnatural silence that fell over the house every time Ealga left, the days had gone by as they normally did. Brianne’s mother had rallied the farmhands that stayed in the guesthouse during the Harvest season and kept them on schedule, while Brianne dealt with the majority of the household chores (the ones she could do on her own, taking into account her size and strength). 

“I swear, I wouldna know what ta do without you and yer ma. I canna remember how I got on before ya came ta stay with me. Maker bless Kristoff’s heart, but the lad’s not fit ta take care of the house on his own quite yet. Yer a wee savior, ya are.” Ealga passed by Brianne as she said that, reaching out to bring Brianne into a quick embrace.

It was moments like these, spread out over the course of the last several months, that broke Brianne’s heart. She hated lying to this wonderful woman. Every time Ealga called her ‘Briony,’ or her mother ‘Ana,’ Brianne’s heart clenched in her chest. Every falsehood uttered about her past made her stomach flip. Every evaded question that involved planning for the future made her cheeks burn hot with shame. Brianne wanted to convince her mother that they needed to run away from this place, if only for the fact that they would not be living a lie, every day a study in taking advantage of Ealga’s generosity and kind spirit.

But if they left, where would they go? It had taken a long time for Brianne and her mother to travel from the outskirts of Markham to where they were now, a large farm at the intersection of Ostwick, Starkhaven, and Kirkwall’s borders. Messere Ealga had taken one look at the pair of bedraggled women trudging through her wheat fields and she had thrown wide her doors in welcome. Brianne’s mother had only intended for them to stay the night with a roof over their heads, but the Starkhaven woman had quickly convinced them to stay for a while. After a few days, Ealga began to pay Brianne’s mother for the chores she was doing around the farm, and soon hired her on as worker. 

Efficient, dedicated, and well-equipped to lead a large group of people, Brianne’s mother was promoted to foreman, and Ealga insisted that Brianne and her mother move into one of the vacant rooms in the main house. With Ealga’s only son living with his family in Starkhaven city, and her husband several years gone, there was plenty of room in the house for them. Having moved into a room, and taken on more and more responsibilities, Brianne was certain that this was where they were going to stay.

But days, then weeks, then months passed by, and her mother never truly unpacked their belongings. So neither did Brianne. They settled into their new life as best they could while awaiting catastrophe.

It seemed today would be that day.

As Brianne reentered the kitchen to check on the bread, a commotion was heard, followed by several shouts. She ran to the window, stretching up on her toes to try and see outside. Workers were gathering in a circle by the closest field. One of the horses was tearing away towards the horizon, but no one was making a move to follow it. Several men broke away from the group to run towards the house, shouting for Ealga. Shouting for help.

All Brianne could think of was her mother being hurt, and she ran out of the kitchen with Ealga close behind.

Brianne’s mother was at the heart of the crowd, but it wasn’t her that was injured. Her mother knelt next to Kris, who was lying in the dirt on his back. He was gasping for breath in short, shallow pants. Brianne saw that his lips and teeth were stained with blood when he opened his mouth, choking on more coming up.

Ealga had collapsed next to her nephew, demanding to know what had happened. Brianne knelt next to the boy as well, reaching out a hand to place it on his ankle, trying to be as covert about it as possible. She caught her mother’s eye, and the heart-breaking message was clear.

_Do not do anything. Let this play out as the Maker wills it. ___

__Brianne heard her mother report that one of the horses spooked while pulling the cart back to the barn. Kris was unhooking it from the cart lest it hurt itself, the other horse, or damage the only cart they had. He had been kicked in the chest in the process._ _

__Brianne could see that as well. Her magic, soft and silent, had seeped inside the boy’s body. The impact had fractured several ribs, one of which had punctured his left lung. Another rib’s jagged edge was perilously close to his heart. He would not survive if they moved him. He would also not survive if he didn’t get help._ _

Ealga was frantically ordering men to collect the runaway horse and hitch it back to the cart. She was planning on taking Kris to the closest healer. The woman wasn’t crying, her spine a steel rod in her body, holding her together in order to save her nephew. Brianne’s mother’s eyes still said the same thing. _Do nothing. Sometimes bad things happen._

_Sometimes we must let them. ___

____Everything within Brianne rebelled at that. Her mother saw it in the intent behind the way Brianne moved to be closer to Kris’ chest. She saw it in the line of Brianne’s hands poised over the boy’s heart, and in the bright light of Brianne’s magic as it curled out from her daughter’s hands to sink into the injured boy. Brianne watched her mother watching her, and saw the moment that disappointment and resignation flashed across Annika’s face._ _ _ _

____A shocked silence had fallen over those gathered in the field as Brianne worked. She was discovering that, while she was healing someone, it was normal for her to lose track of the world around her if she did not actively pay attention to it. It was so easy to get lost inside a human body, especially when she was working with her magic. Brianne vaguely noted that the field hands gave her a wide berth. Most stayed in the field, watching her and Kris from a distance, but a handful disappeared. They had most likely returned to the guesthouse, but Brianne took a moment to worry that they had gone to get templars. She let the worry wash away from her when she saw that her mother was still nearby. Knight-Captain Annika Eduards would have gone after them if she thought they were a threat to her daughter._ _ _ _

____Ealga was the only person that stayed close to Brianne while she was healing Kris. In fact, when Brianne felt herself growing tired (how long had they been sitting in the field? Had the sun moved that far to the west already?) Ealga settled directly next to her, wrapping an arm around Brianne, allowing her to lean on the older woman._ _ _ _

____It wasn’t long after that happened that Brianne finished her work. She slowly brought her hands back to her lap, and black spots filled her vision. She must have swayed a bit, for the ground seemed to rise up to meet her, and then all of a sudden she was in someone’s arms and heading towards the house. Looking over her mother’s shoulder, she saw Ealga and another field hand helping Kris to slowly sit up from the ground. Brianne smiled, and then gave in to the darkness lurking at the periphery of her vision._ _ _ _

____When Brianne opened her eyes again, it was to find she’d been placed on her bed. She was nestled among the covers with her face to the wall. She could hear her mother gathering what little they had spread around the room. There was a knock on the closed door, and her mother stopped moving._ _ _ _

____Brianne kept her face to the wall, sleepily studying the grain of the wood as she listened to her mother’s footsteps. The door creaked open, and she heard Ealga ask if she could come in. Her mother didn’t respond, but Brianne hear the door close a second later, along with two pairs of footsteps crossing the room. The bed dipped, and weathered fingers ran through Brianne’s hair, loosening her braid. Her eyes closed, soaking in the sensation, and she fought to stay awake as the adults began speaking._ _ _ _

____“Ya don’t have ta pack up, lass.” Silence._ _ _ _

____“Where will ya take yer little one?”_ _ _ _

____More silence followed that question, until “...Kirkwall.”_ _ _ _

____“Ach, ya don’t want ta be taking her there, Ana. I’ve heard stories of the Gallows…”_ _ _ _

____“We’ll catch a ship in Kirkwall. That’s all.”_ _ _ _

____Ealga hummed a low note and continued to play with Brianne’s hair. They stayed like that for a while until Brianne heard the sound of chair legs scraping across the wooden flood._ _ _ _

____“Ya don’t have ta pack up,” Ealga repeated herself. “The two of ya are fine right where ya are.”_ _ _ _

____“No. We need to leave. I was going to leave once this season was over. I have enough money to book passage on a nice ship. I have to…” her mother broke off suddenly, and Ealga waited in silence for her to continue._ _ _ _

____Brianne heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, and Ealga’s weight vanished from the bed._ _ _ _

“She needs help,” Brianne heard her mother’s choked whisper. “I...I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t...I can’t show her what to do. _How _to do things. I can’t keep her safe, or show her how to keep herself safe. From demons. From people. From herself..."__

______“You could head ta Ostwick. I heard tell the Circle there is a fair place fer a wee mageling ta grow up.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. We were there before we came here. We aren’t going back.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Starkhaven then. My boy likes the city well enough. Don’t know a whit about the Circle there, but the Vaels keep the people…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No Circles,” Brianne’s mother spat out._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, I dunno what ta tell ya, lass. The only learning yer girl is gonna get is from a Circle mage. Unless ya can track down one of them rovin’ Dalish clans. And then ya’d have ta convince them ta train yer girl.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The room was quiet for a minute as Brianne’s mother contemplated the woman’s advice._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Does she have ta be trained? I hear what yer worried about Ana, and I dunno the first thing about magic, but yer girl healed Kristoff right up. She’s puckered out, a course, but she doesna seem worse fer wear. Can she figure it out on her own? You wouldna have ta go anywhere. Ya can stay with me, fer as long as ya like. Promise to think on it. Stay the night here, and ya can be off in the morning if ya must. It’ll be dark in a few hours. One more night canna hurt anything.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No!” was Annika’s breathless exclamation, and Brianne heard the chair legs scrape along the floor again. “No. We leave now. I’m sorry Ealga. We cannot stay. Let me wake my daughter, and we’ll be gone in a few minutes.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne heard Ealga’s protest, and Annika’s promise that she’d let the woman say goodbye to Brianne before they left. The door opened and closed for a second time, and then her mother was gently urging her to roll over and sit up._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Brianne? Baby, you have to wake up. We’re leaving.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m sorry,” she said, her face buried in the folds of her mother’s tunic._ _ _ _ _ _

______Annika sighed. “I know. I am too. I know it was really nice here, but it’s time to move on. It’s not safe now that everyone knows what you are.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I didn’t mean to.” Brianne explained._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Annie...” her mother tilted Brianne’s face up from where it was nestled against her mother’s stomach. “You did. I saw. I know. I wish I could tell you that it’s okay, but it’s not. Do you remember what we talked about, a long time ago, when we went to Markham?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sometimes bad things happen, and we can’t afford to be kind right now,” Brianne recited. “Don’t draw attention to yourself.”_ _ _ _ _ _

“You did a good thing by helping Kristoff, but it wasn’t the _right _thing. Now we have to leave Ealga without a foreman or a house servant at the closing of a Harvest season. And then there’s all the farm hands that saw your magic. Now they have a reason to be afraid of you. What do people do when they’re afraid?"__

________“Stupid things.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes. Do you see baby? Why it was the wrong thing to do? I need you to promise me something.” Her mother lifted her off the bed and set her on her feet. “Promise me that you won’t use any magic unless I say you can, or unless you’re certain that you’re alone. Can you do that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes.” Brianne replied._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Promise it, Annie.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But what if…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“No. Promise me. No exceptions.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I promise,” Brianne whispered, and her mother nodded at her, satisfied with her acquiescence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A wave of anger, both freezing and burning, washed over Brianne as she followed her mother through Ealga’s house. She didn’t blame her mother for her father’s death. She didn’t blame her for not returning home fast enough. She wasn’t upset about that way they’d been living, or the choices her mother had made for the both of them, but in that moment, Brianne was livid. How _dare _her mother make her promise such a thing. How dare she force her to dishonor her father’s teachings. How dare she force Brianne to abandon the morals that, in what had seemed a better world, dictated all of Brianne’s actions and beliefs.__

__________The farewell Ealga received from Brianne was a hollow one. The old woman attributed it to the young girl having to leave the safety of a comfortable house for the wilderness of the Marches. The woman did not know that it was from a little girl drowning in disappointment, heartbreak, and shame._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a question for those of you following this story. I have borrowed my brother's Inquisitor (Caldwell Trevelyan) for this fic. He is simply going to be a background character for now, but my brother is trying to talk me into writing Cal's version of events. I was wondering if anyone would be interested in reading from Cal's perspective? I'd make a whole new fic and start from the beginning with him, if I do it at all (so no alternating chapter flashbacks). Anyone care at all about seeing what was happening with the Inquisition while Brianne was off doing her own thing? Let me know. If I get enough people, I'll indulge my brother, but if not enough people care to read it, I don't want to divide my attention like that. It already takes a week to write and edit a single chapter of this story.


	17. Then Did I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attack on Haven, Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then did I see the world spread before me,  
> Sky-reaching mountains arrayed as a crown,  
> Kingdoms like jewels, glittering gemstones  
> Strung 'cross the earth as a necklace of pearl.  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

It took longer to get to Haven than she thought it would.

Brianne knew they had camped only a mile or so away from the town. She knew the route that would lead her straight to the front gates. She had been there before, or at least, her and her mother had skirted around the religious landmark before.

None of that had happened in the dark, though. Everything looks different in the dark. Brianne wishes she had remembered that as she stumbles into the same fallen tree for the second time that hour. Of course she loses all navigational prowess the second she leaves Dorian’s side.

Her mother would be irritated with her. Her father would laugh, help dust the snow off her clothes, heal her scraped palms, and tell her to calm herself. With that image, and a deep, centering breath, Brianne moves forward again through the dark forest.

Patience and luck win out. Within a few minutes more of walking, Brianne clears the forest, and a frozen lake stretches out before her. Staring across the distance, she can see multiple large tents set up in the space between the lake and the front entrance of the town. The sounds of laughter and shouting carry through the crisp, mountain air. The doors of Haven and its surrounding walls are lit like a beacon, calling to those wishing to journey to the Inquisition’s side.

As Brianne crosses the rickety, poorly-made bridge that spans the eastern corner of the lake, she wonders at the ruckus being made. The Inquisition’s forces had taken Therinfall Redoubt almost a week ago, if Brianne’s memory serves. Have they been celebrating the victory for an entire week?

She heads straight for the closest group of people, heedless of who they might be or what they might be doing. Dorian is still out in the woods, spying on the Venatori, and the sooner she can alert an officer in charge, the sooner she can go back to retrieve him.

There are four men sitting on the bank of the frozen river with their backs to several large rocks. All of them wear the same outfit underneath a dark cloak, so Brianne assumes they’re Inquisition agents. They’re passing a bottle from person to person while one of them tells a slurred story that Brianne doesn’t even attempt to follow. Stumbling up to them in the snow, Brianne interrupts them to say, “Excuse me. Who is in charge right now?”

“What?” the storyteller asks. His comrades laugh at him, and most likely at her too.

“Who is in charge right now, that I can speak with?”

“Uh…” the man trails off, his fellow agents giggling and sloshing alcohol around. 

“The Herald,” another one tells her.

“Where are they?”

“Eh...I….uh I dunno.” The men dissolve into snorts of laughter.

“Can you show me who does?” she asks, albeit a little impatiently. Two of the drunkards point towards the clustering of tents closer to the town, while another points to the man she had originally been speaking with. She turns and heads towards the tents, the men’s laughter and indecipherable comments about a ‘Commander’ following after her.

Brianne stops at another group, this one larger and even more intoxicated. Several men and women in civilian clothing, along with more Inquisition soldiers, are gathered around a medium-sized bonfire. Several are dancing with each other while a woman sings an acapella song. Brianne asks all of them Where is the Herald? None are able to answer her. Most point in different directions, never the same as where everyone else is pointing. Some say, "In the Singing Maiden with that Qunari blighter." Others say, "In the Chantry, sending his thanks to Andraste for her guidance and protection." The rest tell her that they don’t know, but that she should look for Sister Nightingale. Sister Nightingale would know exactly where the Herald is. When Brianne asks where to find the woman with the strange title, she receives more hedged answers and fingers sweeping in vague directions.

Seconds away from tearing her hair out, Brianne hikes up to the towering wooden doors of Haven. The flickering lights of the torches that line the stone walls make the twin mabari statues seem like feral gargoyles, ready to come to life and defend the village from any malcontent. 

Even though the doors are being held wide open and welcoming, Brianne is stopped by the two guards stationed there. “Halt. I don’t recognize you, ser. State your business in Haven.”

“I need to speak to whomever is in charge.”

Both guards spare a sideways glance at each other. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

Brianne breathes deep and mentally reminds herself why she’s doing this. “The Commander. The Herald. Sister Nightingale. It doesn’t matter who I speak with, I just need to speak with someone. I have important information that the Inquisition needs.”

“Do you now?” The first guard makes some kind of hand signal (Brianne isn’t certain who it’s directed at) and both men ease back into parade rest. She nods once at them, smiles, and moves to walk past them and into the village. 

The second guard moves, quick as lightning, and grabs a hold of her upper arm. “Ser, you’ll need to wait here for a moment,” he calmly orders. 

Brianne goes still as the grave, reeling internally from deja vu. How many times in her life has a templar held her in such a way, especially as they delivered an order or ultimatum? She wants to lash out at the guard, to force his hands off of her, but she merely steels her gaze on him instead.

“Unhand me, please. I need to speak to the Herald.” 

“I’m afraid the Herald is busy at the moment. If you will wait here, I’m sure we can find someone else for you to give your important information to.” 

The guard’s words are diplomatic enough, and his grip isn’t uncomfortable, but the tone of his voice tell a different story: one of disbelief and mockery. 

Brianne levels him with an imperious expression, and explains, “I have been running, for days, to reach the Inquisition. I have lost friends and family at the hands of crazed cultists. I have first-hand information concerning the agents and organizations capitalizing on the chaos of the Breach. I don’t care who I talk to. If the Herald is busy, then let me go find _anyone _else of any kind of importance that can help bring an end to this madness!”__

__“That’ll do, Tolbin,” comes a voice from directly behind Brianne. “If the lady wishes to speak to someone, then she has found an audience.”_ _

With a quietly uttered, _Commander _, the guard drops Brianne’s arm and moves back to his post next to the mabari statue.__

____Brianne turns to greet the Commander of the Inquisition and freezes in place. She knows that face. She recognizes the curls of his hair flashing red-gold in the firelight. The scar on his upper lip is more pronounced than she remembers. Familiar eyes stare at her questioningly. He seems even taller and broader than he used to be, which is surprising considering he’s missing his templar armor._ _ _ _

____“Ser Rutherford?” she whispers, equal measures of awe and horror no doubt coloring both her voice and expression._ _ _ _

For all that Cullen Rutherford has been through, it seems that time has been kind to him, at least in body. _Sweet Maker, if I hadn’t thought him handsome before… _She tries to remember the speech that Dorian helped her plan, but she can’t focus past his startled expression and her own shock at seeing him here.__

______“Do we know each other?” Cullen asks her, the tips of his ears turning pink in the cold air. He’s wearing what seems to be a coat with a fur-trimmed collar, but his head and ears are uncovered and left at the mercy of the wind. His stance and body language are relaxed, although he’s resting both of his hands on the pommel of the sword attached to his hip._ _ _ _ _ _

“We…uh...” _I was one of your charges at the Ferelden Circle. We both lived through that horror. I was half in love with you while you pinned after Gwen. _“I was in Ferelden,” she finally manages to say. She fights the urge to cover her eyes in embarrassment. Instead, she lifts her chin and forces a facsimile of a smile.__

________Cullen’s brows furrow at her vague answer. “Are you from Lothering?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________This is not a conversation Brianne wants to have outside, in the cold, in the dead of night. She’s overjoyed to see him alive and well, but so many things must come before her need to speak with him, to see how he’s fared after their paths diverged so long ago. She crosses her arms over her chest and changes the subject. “Knight-Commander, I must speak with the Herald immediately. I have come from Redcliffe and have news about the Rebel Mages.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His eyes narrow slightly. “It’s just Commander Cullen, my lady. I no longer hold any position in the Templar order. If you would follow me, please,” he indicates for her to enter Haven and falls in step beside her.  
They walk in silence for a moment before Cullen asks, “Are you an emissary from Grand Enchanter Fiona? The Inquisition attempted to make contact with the Mages several months ago, but was unsuccessful. It’s interesting that the Grand Enchanter waited until both the Templars fell and the Breach was sealed before reaching out to us. The Inquisition may not have a use for the Mages anymore.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne looks towards the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. “The Breach was sealed?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cullen’s gaze sharpens further, reminding her of what he used to look like in his younger days. “Yes. Days after the Herald took back the redoubt, the remaining templars helped him close the Breach. You hadn’t heard?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The sky is pitch black, so Brianne can’t see that the tear in the Veil is missing. For almost a week she has been running for dear life towards Haven, and neither she nor Dorian have been looking to the sky. “I had not. News of the Inquisition’s victory at Therinfall had just reached Redcliffe when I decided to leave.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cullen leads them off to the right, past a closed merchant’s booth and out into a wide-open area. There are less people around, so it’s easier to hear each other speaking. Cullen stops near one of the massive siege-equipment pieces Brianne doesn’t have a name for and turns to face her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Is the Herald nearby?” she asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cullen ignores her. “Decided to leave? You are not here to speak on Fiona’s behalf?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne fights off irritation, reminding herself that Dorian is waiting for her. “Grand Enchanter Fiona is dead. As far as I know, most of the members of Rebel Mages are dead. Soon after the Breach opened, a group called the Venatori staged a coup and overran Redcliffe castle. The arl was forced out. Some of the mages joined the group, some were killed, and the rest were treated as slaves. The Venatori are a Tevinter cult, hence the indentured servitude.” Cullen’s eyebrows are practically touching his hairline as she continues to list off all that she had lived through over the past year._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________When she is done, the first question that Cullen asks is, “You’re a mage?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne blinks at him in disbelief. “Commander Rutherford, my friend is putting himself in danger in order to help the Inquisition. If you don’t mind, I would like to find him and make sure he’s alright. Will you take all that I’ve said to the Herald, so I can do that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cullen bristles and scowls, his fingers tightening around his sword pommel. “Enchanter, you are going to have to stay with me. If what you say is true, there is more that the Inquisition needs to know. I will have our scouts confirm what you say about the army nearby, but in the meantime…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________There’s a commotion on the other side of the gate that seems to be separate from the regular revelry. Cullen turns away from Brianne to glance back the way they came. As if on cue, a soldier in light armor comes barreling out into the open, shouting for the Commander. Cullen signals to the soldier, and begins walking towards her as she limps to meet him halfway. Unsure of what is expected of her, Brianne follows a ways behind him, thinking she can at least be utilized to heal what seems to be a wounded scout._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Ashcroft. Report,” is Cullen’s greeting to the woman standing in front of him as she heaves in great lungfuls of air._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Commander...there’s a large force heading our way...Bulk of the party...hasn’t crested the mountain yet...Forward army advances as we speak…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Are they hostiles?” the Commander asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Affirmative. Scouts spotted...me and Ibarra...Took her out before...before…” the woman’s report dissolves in a harsh sob. Brianne starts to move to the woman’s side, but a withering look from the Commander forces her to stay put._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Sound the alarm. Get me the Herald, Leliana, and Josephine,” he orders. The woman limps off with the help of another soldier._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cullen turns to the closest siege weapon and climbs it effortlessly. He stays aloft for several seconds, squinting into the distance towards the mountains._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It’s the Venatori,” Brianne says just as a deafening bell begins to toll. The commander jumps down from his perch and storms past Brianne, almost as though he’s forgotten she’s there._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Scurrying after him like a lost mabari puppy, she almost runs into him when he abruptly stops near the front gate and shouts into the panicked, intoxicated mass of people, “Forces approaching. To arms!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It’s pure pandemonium for the next several minutes. Brianne places her back against part of the stone wall that surrounds Haven that will provide some protection for the city. Inquisition soldiers run outside the walls while civilians race to safety inside of them. Cullen stands like a sentinel by the doors, his booming voice carrying over the din. Men and women respond automatically and fluidly to his instructions._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Despite how quickly the soldiers are moving and how organized they are, it’s clear to Brianne that the Inquisition has been taken completely by surprise. There aren’t any extra fortifications for the city outside of the stone walls and wooden gates. Half of the army is inebriated while another quarter of them seem to be waking up. Many are without armor or weapons, but still they run to their stations, intent on defending the Inquisition’s assets._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Close the gates!” Cullen bellows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne watches as the giant beam falls into place, locking the doors shut. The commander turns to her and says something, but she is distracted by four people running towards them, which is the opposite direction everyone else is moving. The group is led by a tall woman in warrior armor, followed closely by a male warrior and a woman whose face is hidden by a purple hood. Bringing up the rear is a dark-skinned woman in a beautiful, Antivan-style dress._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Cullen repeats the question he asked Brianne, but she still doesn’t hear him. She can’t tear her eyes away from the male approaching her. It’s been almost two years since she last saw his face, but she’s certain he is who she thinks he is. _Oh my old friend, what have you gotten yourself into?_

__________“Cullen?” the tall woman shouts when she gets close enough for him to hear her. The commander turns his attention on her and begins to explain what the scout reported to him earlier. The woman in the dress is listening intently to Cullen as well, but the hooded figure is staring at Brianne (at least, it seems as though she’s staring at Brianne). The man is looking at Brianne as well, and she’s certain they’re wearing matching expressions of surprise._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The man interrupts the Commander of the Inquisition to exclaim, “Annie?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________All eyes turn to him and Brianne. She swallows past the lump in her throat and manages to return his shocked greeting. “Well met, Ser Trevelyan.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Sweet Maker I hope that lived up to everyone's expectations. 
> 
> Next up, Brianne & her mother go to Kirkwall.


	18. Sorrow No More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirkwall. Need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All this is yours," spake the World-Maker.  
> "Join Me in heaven and sorrow no more."  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

As Brianne and her mother looked down upon the city of Kirkwall from their perch halfway down Sundermount, it occurred to Brianne that she had never been so happy to see a city in her entire life. 

The past month had been torturous for the pair. The ending of the harvest season ushered in colder days and longer nights. The wind was merciless as it tore through the mountain trails and livestock passes. The range of the Vimmark mountains that separated Kirkwall from the Marches to the north was a barren and perilous place. The deeper into the mountains they traveled, the less the women were able to forage and hunt. No matter what, by the end of every day Annika always found something for Brianne to eat. Even if that meant that Annika went without.

Nights were spent fighting off hunger and hypothermia. They couldn’t keep a fire going unless they were lucky enough to find an abandoned cave or crevasse in the mountainside, which didn’t happen often. Mother and daughter spent many nights huddled together with only each other and their sleeping pallets for warmth. On those nights, Annika made sure to lift her voice into the endless night around them, each vowel and consonant a study in hope and a prayer for perseverance. 

And persevere they did. As they gazed down at the gates of Kirkwall, Brianne’s mother assured her that if they moved quickly, they would be able to reach the city by nightfall. The pair nearly flew down the mountainside, intent on finally having a bed to sleep in and warm food in their stomachs.

It was dusk when their frantic sojourn finally ended. No other travellers were on the road as mother and daughter approached the city gates. Brianne’s mother dusted the both of them off as best she could, and quickly fixed Brianne’s hair. They walked the short distance to the city’s entrance at a much slower pace, Brianne’s mother re-braiding her own hair as they went.

The gate guards were in the process of closing the city for the evening. Annika called a friendly greeting to them, but was met with stoic expressions.

“State your business,” one of the guards ordered.

Unfazed, Annika began the tale of a migrant worker and her young daughter displaced during the winter season. Having heard of several opportunities in the Ferelden Coastlands, the worker and her daughter set out to barter passage on a ship in the illustrious city of Kirkwall.

It was as close enough to the truth as Annika could get, and Brianne was impressed with her mother’s ability to weave fiction so seamlessly through fact.

Neither of the guards was as moved by the story as Brianne was. 

The one that addressed her mother shifted his weight from side to side and crossed his arms. “Sorry, Serrah. City’s closed for the night.”

Annika’s companionable smile didn’t falter. “Surely you can let one more woman and child in. We’ve come to spend coin before we leave for Ferelden. It’ll be good for the economy, if nothing else.”

The guard uncrossed his arms and flexed his hands by his side. “I said the gates are closed.”

Brianne’s mother turned to the second guard. He was a little younger than the first, and seemed to be uncomfortable with what was unfolding in front of him. “Please, Messere,” Annika beseeched him. “We’ve been traveling for weeks to get here. I just want a bed for my little girl to sleep in tonight.”

The young man opened his mouth, but was cut off by the first guard before he could say anything. “The city. Is. Closed. Not just for tonight, but for tomorrow, and tomorrow’s tomorrow. No one is getting in, by order of the Viscount.”

“Why would the Viscount ban people from his city?” 

“That doesn’t concern you,” the first guard said at the same that time the younger one answered, “Because of Ferelden.” 

The younger guard received a glare from his partner, but shrugged his shoulders. “What? It doesn’t hurt to say. Darkspawn’ve been showing up around Ferelden in greater numbers. You see a few of ‘em every once in a while anyways, ya know? But they’re saying groups of ‘em are coming up and attacking people more. Grey Wardens are handling it, so they say, but the King’s worried another Blight’s gonna happen. The Queen’s making plans for people to be able to go to other places, if they need to. Kirkwall’s been promised as a haven, and the Viscount’s gotta watch the city’s population. Can’t run outta room for refugees before they even get here.” The younger man laughed, but his partner just huffed and crossed his arms again.

“The kindness and generosity of this city’s leader knows no bounds,” Brianne’s mother praised. “I’m sure that if the Viscount were here right now, he’d allow us passage through the city. We just need a place to stay for the night. With luck, we can find a ship that’s leaving tomorrow, and we’ll be gone before anyone knows we’re here. It’ll be as though we never were.” 

“I’m sorry Serrah, but orders are orders. The gates close at dusk, and no one who isn’t a current resident or merchant is allowed through, even when they’re open. Ostwick’s just to the east, if you follow the coastline. I’m sure you’ll have better luck there.”

Brianne’s mother went still. Her eyes narrowed at the two city guardsmen, and Brianne realized that she was contemplating their options. Outside of turning around and heading back to the mountains, Brianne wasn’t certain what else they could do.

Suddenly, Brianne was overwhelmed with a feeling of dread. It made her want to run. It made her want to curl around her mother and hide. She wasn’t certain what was causing it, only that the feeling was sitting heavy in her stomach, and she needed to somehow tell her mother that they were in trouble, that danger was near. Brianne looked up at her mother to try and catch her attention, when something clicked in her head. 

It was Annika. The way her arms hung at her sides, muscles tensed and taut; the way she began to shift her stance, weight centered and poised for impact; the look in her eyes that said, _These men stand in the way of what my child and I need to be safe. ___

Brianne knew, with complete certainty, that her mother was the reason her senses were screaming out _Danger! Run!_

____Without hesitation, she reached out and took her mother’s hand in hers. Annika looked down at her daughter, and Brianne made sure to hold her gaze. The pair stood like that for a few seconds. Brianne hoped that her mother could see that she wanted to leave. She didn’t want to resort to violence or running. She hoped that the look on her face, and the pressure of her small hand, would be enough to convince her mother to leave off with whatever Annika was plotting to get past the guards._ _ _ _

____Her mother’s body finally went lax. Annika nodded to both of the guards and led Brianne back the way they came. As they left, the younger guard called out an apology and wished them safe travels._ _ _ _

____They made it about a mile before the sky began to turn completely dark, which caused them to start hunting for a place to make camp. It’s easier to hear things in darkness than it is in the light. People aren’t as distracted by what their eyes are showing them, and they pay more attention to what their other senses are communicating. As Brianne gathered driftwood for their fire, she heard her mother pause in the digging of their small fire pit. Listening carefully as well, Brianne thought she heard shouting off in the distance, though she wasn’t sure which direction it was coming from, only that it wasn’t coming from the south where the shoreline was. “Stay here,” her mother ordered. Annika took off into the darkness without even checking to see if her daughter obeyed._ _ _ _

____Brianne did, for about five minutes._ _ _ _

____It was the wailing that finally caused Brianne’s curiosity to override her obedience. Making her way in the direction she thought her mother went, Brianne stayed low to the ground, hiding behind vegetation and rocky outcroppings when she could. It took several minutes for her to reach her mother and the skirmish her mother had engaged herself in. _Why is it always spiders? _Brianne silently sent the question out into the starlit sky as she watched her mother swing her sword to cripple one of the large spiders that was trying to get to a person lying prone on the rocky path ahead. A second person was hovering over the first, and that was the source of the wailing.___ _ _ _

______There were only three spiders, one of which had already been finished off. Brianne was confident that her mother could handle the other two on her own, so she slowly skirted her way around the edges of the tussle in order to get to the wailing woman._ _ _ _ _ _

______When Brianne reached her, she saw that the woman was kneeling over a small child that was unresponsive. Approaching, with her hands raised, Brianne began to check the little boy to see what was wrong. “It’s alright, I’m with her,” she reassured the woman. “I might be able to help. Is it alright if I look?” The woman rose up from her crouched position and nodded hesitantly, causing Brianne to catch a glimpse of the markings on her face and the tips of her pointed ears._ _ _ _ _ _

______Reigning in her curiosity, Brianne focused on the elf boy in front of her. One of the spiders must have been been poisonous, for his left side was covered in a goopy substance that had burned its way through his clothing and top layer of skin. The pain of it was what had rendered him unconscious. Brianne thought she could heal him, but needed to wait to speak to her mother. She had made a promise, after all, even though it had broken her heart into a million, tiny pieces she had yet to put back together._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well?” the woman demanded, right as Annika finished off the last spider. Walking over to them, her mother introduced herself and her daughter. The elven woman confirmed that both her and her son were Dalish, and from a clan that was camped nearby. They were on their way back when they were ambushed by the spiders._ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s mother looked over the boy’s injuries, and Brianne simply asked, “Can I?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Annika didn’t look at her daughter. She pursed her mouth and kept examining the little boy’s injuries, as if she could miraculously figure out another way to help him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mama, I need to do it soon,” Brianne warned._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What are you saying?” Rille, the elven woman, demanded. Her eyes were full of fear, trained on her child surrounded by these strangers._ _ _ _ _ _

______Annika sighed and said, “Go ahead.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Rille gasped as her son was engulfed in healing magic. It was slow going, but Brianne managed to expel the poison from his system and began to get his skin to start healing. He was numbed enough that he began to regain consciousness, and his mother threw herself at him. Brianne had to warn her not to touch him, and began instructing her on how to take care of him while he healed. Rille was beside herself, crying and hugging Brianne in the way Brianne knew she wanted to do with her son._ _ _ _ _ _

______When Brianne and her mother started to leave, Rille stopped them. She insisted that they come with her to her clan’s camp. She offered food and shelter from the cold, and it only took a moment’s deliberation for Annika to concede._ _ _ _ _ _

______As they followed the Dalish mother and son, Annika turned to Brianna and asked, “How do you know what to do? When you heal people.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne was uncertain what to say to that. The last conversation she had with her mother about her magic left Annika quiet and brooding for hours. Every once in a while (like when Brianne would light their campfire when natural means wasn’t working) her mother looked at her with apprehension and sadness. Brianne didn’t want to cause her mother to look at her like that right now, but she also wanted to answer honestly._ _ _ _ _ _

“I dunno,” she said. “I don’t really _know _...I just…” Brianne frowned down at the ground. “People don’t like being hurt. Bodies don’t like being broken. They try to fix themselves right away, but can’t. I just...I look at what’s wrong. I can see it and I just know that it’s not right. So I help.”__

________“How do you know how much you should help?” her mother prodded._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Mama, I can see it. I look, and I see it, and I know. I just gotta push some magic into the person to help them heal. Their body does all the work. I just gotta lend it some magic.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Annika nodded as though she understood exactly what her daughter was saying. Maybe she did, but before the conversation could continue, their party reached the outskirts of the Dalish camp._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne marveled at the halla sleeping upright, their heads hanging heavy towards the ground. The aravels looked like miniature, decorative boats carved with intricate designs. She wished it was daylight so she could see them better. There was a roaring campfire with many elves scattered around it. They all stood and fell silent as the group approached the heart of the camp, Rille leading them straight to someone she called The Keeper._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Keeper ended up being a middle-aged woman named Deshanna. Rille explained how her and her son had been set upon by a cluster of spiders. She praised Annika for her bravery and skill in defending them as Brianne looked after Gethrion (her son, Brianne assumed.) Rille had Gethrion’s injury displayed in order to show off Brianne’s healing prowess, and Brianne watched her mother tense, readying herself to defend her daughter if need be. Keeper Deshanna simply listened to Fille’s story, then asked Brianne’s mother what she had been doing in the Kirkwall wilderlands at night._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Annika told of the reception they received at the gates of the city, and that her and her daughter had merely been looking for a place to camp for the night when they heard Rille’s screams. Annika intended for them to move on in the morning towards Cumberland in hopes that they’d have better luck in Nevarra catching a ship for Ferelden._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Keeper approached Brianne’s mother and shook her hand, welcoming her to stay the evening with Clan Lavellan. As the elf said, It’s not every day a shemlen goes out of their way to help one of the People. You are welcome to what is ours while you are with us._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________As it turned out, Brianne and her mother did get to sleep the night in a soft bed, their bellies full of warm food and their spirits lighter than night breeze blowing through the beach pine._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: we continue where ch. 17 left off.


	19. World-Making Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attack on Haven, Part 2. (Alternatively: Brianne is a BAMF and Cullen is secretly impressed. Alternatively alternatively: “Well...shit.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: 60% of dialogue is what characters actually say in-game. The other 40% I invented based off my own creative ingenuity.
> 
> "World-making Glory," I cried out in sorrow,  
> "How shall your children apology make?”  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

“Annie!” Caldwell shouts as a smile blossoms across his face. “What in Andraste’s name are you doing here?”

“You know this woman, Trevelyan?” Cullen asks. Brianne can feel everyone’s eyes boring into her, but she can’t tear her gaze away from Caldwell Trevelyan. He seems to be well, other than looking a little harried from running to meet Cullen.

“Cullen, may I introduce Enchanter Brianne Lochland of...formerly of The White Spire.” Cal stumbles for a moment over her title. Brianne doesn’t blame him. Sometimes she still forgets that the Circles have been disbanded, even though it’s been years, and no mage is chained to any one place anymore. 

Brianne wishes her father could have lived to see it, even though he’d be less than thrilled with how it all came about.

“I thought you said you were from Ferelden?” Culled address her.

She turns infinitesimally towards him. Making eye contact, she slowly replies, “Yes. I was.”

Cullen is confused for half of a heartbeat, and then she watches the dawning horror on his face when he realizes what she’s going out of her way not to say. His expression abruptly shutters closed and he turns away from Brianne to continue what he was saying before he was interrupted by Caldwell’s outburst.

“But really Annie, how did you get here?” Cal has moved closer to her, and he’s speaking in a low voice so as not to distract the commander again. 

The lady in the golden dress vocalizes her surprise at the approaching army not displaying their banners, and Brianne interjects. “They’re called the Venatori. They’re why I’m here. I’ve come from Redcliffe, which they seized almost a year ago.”

“So you’ve been in Redcliffe this whole time? I wondered if you’d stayed with Fiona when you followed her from The Spire. I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Do you know Enchanter Lochland from your time stationed at Val Royeaux, Herald?” The tall woman asks. 

“Oh, pardon my manners ladies. Annie, this is Cassandra Pentaghast, Josephine Montilyet, and Sister Leliana. And no, Cassandra. I’ve known Annie since we were children. She saved my life when we were younger.”

Brianne knows she’s gaping like a fish, but she can’t help herself. “You’re the Herald of Andraste?” 

Cal throws his head back and laughs, reminding her for a second of both her father and Felix. “Yes, at your service Lady Mage.” Cal performs an elaborate bow worthy of the Orlesian Court, and Brianne fights the urge to roll her eyes at him. 

“You broke your arm falling out of a tree, Trevelyan. Don’t be so dramatic.” 

Cal covers his heart with one of his hands, pretending to be wounded. Sister Leliana steps forward, pulling off the hood of her cloak, and addresses him. “Not to interrupt this touching reunion, but we need to act quickly if we are to save Haven and its citizens, Herald.”

“Yes. Apologies, Nightingale.” Cal is suddenly all composure and seriousness as he turns to Cullen. “What can we do, Commander?”

Cullen begins to talk battle strategy when there’s a massive crack of thunder, and lightning rains down from the sky just outside of the gate. Screams are heard, and Brianne’s heart leaps. Could that be…

Something crashes against the sealed doors and Brianne hears a wonderfully, infuriatingly sarcastic voice shout, “If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it.”

“Dorian!” Brianne exclaims. She lunges towards the gates, yelling, “Open them.”

The soldiers posted there don’t move to stop her, but neither do they help her until she hears Cal give them the order to, despite Cullen and Cassandra’s background protests. They only have to crack one of the doors ajar before Dorian is slipping inside, dirty and rumpled and the most beautiful thing she’s seen all night (notwithstanding the delectable Commander of the Inquisition, that is).

Brianne is giggling, slightly hysterically, as she throws her arms around her friend. He’s alive and well, and he can laugh with her later when she tells him that she actually thought of another person using the term ‘delectable.’

It should be a red flag that Dorian is allowing her to embrace him for so long. It isn’t until she realizes how heavily he’s leaning on her that she tries to back out of the hug to take a look at him. 

“I’m here to warn you,” he says. Brianne hears Cassandra snort, and Dorian laughs weakly. “I know. When you’re fashionably late, these things tend to happen.” He tries to take a step forward, but pitches sideways into Brianne. 

All of a sudden both Cullen and Caldwell are there. Cal sweeps in, wrapping an arm around the Tevinter mage’s waist and pulling him against his side for balance. Cullen catches Brianne underneath her armpits and bodily sets her on her feet again, letting go only when he’s sure she’s regained her footing. Brianne would be mortified if she wasn’t so worried about why Dorian is practically fainting at her feet.

“I see that look on your face _amicus. _I’m just a mite tired. Don’t mind me.” Dorian attempts to stand on his own, but Cal isn’t letting go of him. Dorian seems to finally realize who is keeping him upright, and flashes a winning smile at Caldwell. Looking at him while addressing Brianne, Dorian says, “If I’d have known this would be my welcome, I’d have demanded you be the one to stay in the forest. The view here is worlds better.”__

__To Brianne’s amazement, Caldwell returns Dorian’s smile with one of his own. “And if I’d have known handsome mages would come running through the gates to swoon into my arms, I’d have been encouraging a siege this entire time.”_ _

Cassandra makes an unattractive noise in the back of her throat, Josephine giggles, and Cullen utters a quiet, _Maker’s breath, _while turning his gaze skyward.__

____“This is the man I was telling you about Commander,” Brianne says, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. “Altus Pavus has intimate knowledge of the magic used by the Venatori. He will be a great asset to the Inquisition.”_ _ _ _

____“If it survives the night,” Cassandra says to Leliana, who has turned her hawk-like gaze on the mage from the Imperium._ _ _ _

____“Oh, I am certain he has many great assets that the Inquisition can utilize,” Cal says, eyes locked on Dorian’s. Brianne isn’t certain how a person can make such an innocuous comment lascivious, but Caldwell accomplishes it. Instead of being scandalized, Dorian looks positively gleeful, and it takes Cullen clearing his throat harshly for the pair of them to focus on something other than each other._ _ _ _

____“You’ll have to excuse the Herald, Altus. I have learned that flirting is his own special brand of diplomacy.” Josephine gives Dorian a small curtsey and a smile. “Welcome to Haven. The Inquisition is happy to receive you.”_ _ _ _

____“Josie, now is not the time for politicking,” Leliana admonishes at the same time Dorian turns to Cal with a single eyebrow raised._ _ _ _

____“Herald? You don’t say.”_ _ _ _

____Caldwell looks sheepish for a moment as he finally releases his hold on Dorian. The Herald of Andraste turns to the commander and beseeches, “Give me a plan, Cullen. Anything.”_ _ _ _

____“Haven is no fortress. We cannot simply hole up and wait for them to run out of men or supplies. We need to be the ones in control. Thin their lines. Follow my men out there, and take out as many as you can.” Cal nods, and Cullen turns to the soldiers that have been hanging back. “Gather the villagers and secure the Chantry. Fortify the walls and watch for advanced forces. You know the signals, so use them. Trebuchet captains! Archers! Rain destruction on our enemies. Cover your fellow soldiers. Inquisition, to arms! For your lives! For all of us!”_ _ _ _

____With that final shout, the men and women disburse, and Cullen comes back to address the Herald. “Say your goodbyes Trevelyan. We must get out there.”_ _ _ _

____Caldwell smiles and turns to Dorian first, but the mage raises his hand in the air to stop whatever it is Calwell is about to say. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m coming with you.”_ _ _ _

____“As am I,” Cassandra says, stepping forward. Leliana and Josephine have already begun following the stream of civilians towards what looks to be the Chantry. “Shall I try to find anyone else, Herald?”_ _ _ _

____“No. Bull was outside with the Chargers when all this began. I’m sure we can find him when we enter the melee.”_ _ _ _

____The soldiers have almost reopened the gates when Dorian notices that Brianne is still with them. His eyes narrow, and he decrees, “You are going to the Chantry.”_ _ _ _

____Brianne doesn’t bother responding. She tries to slip past him, but he reaches out and stops her. “Herald,” he calls to Cal, who turns back around to look at them. “Order our lovely Enchanter to stay inside the gates.”_ _ _ _

____Caldwell chuckles. “I couldn’t order her around when we were children. What makes you think she’ll listen to me now?”_ _ _ _

____Brianne doesn’t remember Caldwell Trevelyan being such a flirt, or such a smart-alek. She’s actually begun to look forward to getting to know him again._ _ _ _

____Now if only she can forgive him for becoming a templar._ _ _ _

____Dorian starts in on the reasons why Brianne should stay behind, but she cuts him off when she places a hand on his exposed shoulder and shoots him full of healing magic. Dorian gasps and takes a single step backwards. He grimaces as all of his cuts and bruises are healed within seconds, and his energy is instantly revitalized. Brianne never allows herself to heal people like this, but she’s currently trying to make a point._ _ _ _

____Which Caldwell picks up on. Sounding off a low whistle, he says, “Sorry Pavus. That is a handy trick. Annie’s coming along.” Cassandra looks equally impressed, while Cullen’s face is still shuttered and unreadable._ _ _ _

____Cullen stations himself directly outside the gates, claiming he’ll stand as a last line of defense. Dorian begs Brianne to stay with the commander, and she relents. She watches as Dorian, Cassandra, and Caldwell join the crowd of clashing soldiers, the Venatori’s forward army having reached the outskirts of the city. They begin to cut their way through the Venatori, making their way towards the frozen lake. In the distance, Brianne can see a giant Qunari bellowing a War Cry as he swings his massive, two-handed sword._ _ _ _

____Once they’re gone, Brianne realizes she has a problem. Unless she’s touching someone, she can’t heal them. She could send out projectile healing spells if she had a staff, but she doesn’t. Combat spells are her only option, but without a staff they will only be half as potent as they could be. It’d just be a waste of magic. Turning to Cullen, whose focus is on surveying the battle, she asks, “Is there anywhere nearby I can get a staff?”_ _ _ _

____Without taking his eyes off the skirmishes, Cullen says, “That is why I was surprised you were a mage. You don’t have your staff with you.”_ _ _ _

____“Mages don’t need staffs to use magic,” Brianne informs him._ _ _ _

____“Yes, but most go everywhere with theirs. Even the Champion went around Kirkwall with his strapped to his back, daring all the citizens and templars to do something about it.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, I don’t have one. I’m mainly a healer,” Brianne snaps, irritated at the man in front of her. She remembers Cullen Rutherford’s final months at Kinloch Hold. She remembers why Irving and Gregoir had transferred him to Val Royeaux. When she was transferred there as well, she’d made inquiries, hoping she’d find him well in body and spirit. She discovered he’d been called to Kirkwall per special request of the Knight-Commander there. Brianne had hoped he hadn’t fallen prey to the toxic mythos thriving in that city. She hoped that he’d remember, or at least realize, that not all mages are inherently monsters._ _ _ _

____She isn’t sure who the Cullen Rutherford in front of her is. Is he the man his former Knight-Commander had shaped him to be, or is he the man that she had heard whispers of: the kind and generous Knight-Commander who had begun rebuilding his ravished city on the premise of equality and fairness?_ _ _ _

____Brianne would have to determine that later. Right now, she needs a staff. “Can I get my hands on one or not, Commander?”_ _ _ _

____Cullen finally looks at her. “I don’t know of any combat mages within the Inquisition’s ranks. If you were inside the city, I’d send you to the apothecary, or to Leliana. They might be able to help you find one. Unless you want to go back inside, I’d suggest checking the forge. I’ve seen the mages commissioning Harritt for upgrades to their existing staffs. He might have something there you can use.”_ _ _ _

Without so much as a thanks, Brianne heads in the direction Cullen was pointing. The building’s right by the main gate, off to the left. She hears Cullen shouting for her to come back, that she shouldn’t head into the fighting alone. She calls over her shoulder an, _I’ll be fine Commander. _None of the fighting has reached the front gates yet. She’ll just have to be quick about getting to the weaponsmith and back.__

______Several men are still rounding up the horses that had been left in the stables. An impressive man in Gray Warden armor fends off attackers as the stablehands work. Brianne dodges arrows to get close enough to place a glyph on the ground in front of the warden. He must see her do it, for he begins to back towards the stables. Assuming he’s retreating, the pair of soldiers he’s fighting rushes him, and trip the ice mine. The warden sends her an Orlesian-style military salute after he smashes the frozen soldiers into a million pieces, and she continues on._ _ _ _ _ _

______On the other side of the horse pens is an open-air forge. Brianne begins searching for anything resembling a staff when she hears someone shouting at her. Turning, she sees a balding, middle-aged man with a moustache to rival Dorian’s. “Are you Harritt?” she shouts back._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Aye.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“The Commander told me you might have a staff I could borrow.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“A stave?” The man glances around his forge, brows furrowed in concentration. “No, miss. If you have a minute, I might be able to…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, a staff. A mage’s staff.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Harritt is surprised, and falls quiet. Brianne gives him a few seconds, and is about to break the silence to tell him not to worry about it, when he turns away from her to run to the house that’s attached to the forge. Brianne doesn’t think he’s dismissing her, so she waits for him to come back, crouching down behind crates so enemies will miss her._ _ _ _ _ _

______When he returns, he’s carrying a long, wooden walking stick. He hands it to Brianne, seeming to be a bit embarrassed about it. “This is all I can do for you. The Herald brought it back from one of his trips. Gave it to me as a gift, said he didn’t really have anything in mind for it. The Inquisition’s been attracting more mages, so I thought I’d try my hand at making a staff.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne wonders why Cal would give his forgemaster an unremarkable, wooden staff, when she takes it from Harritt. Once it’s in her hands, she realises why it’s special._ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s pure ironbark._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s not much, I know. I shaped it so it’d look like a walking stick, so as not to be so conspicuous, if you know what I mean. I haven’t gotten very far with it. I’ve had to wait for help from some of our Dalish recruits. It’ll do in a pinch, I’m sure. Just try an’ bring it back, if you can.”_ _ _ _ _ _

Harritt’s right when he says it’s not much. There’s no grip or blade on it. It’s even missing an artifact focal point at the top, but Brianne doesn’t mind. The rough edges of the wood have been smoothed out, and it’s the perfect height for someone as short as she is. She thanks Harritt and promises to return it later, his demand for her to, _Send those bastards to the Void, _ringing in her ears as she returns to Haven’s gate.__

________Cullen’s in the same place as before, and doesn’t so much as glance at her when she takes up her place beside him. After that, it’s a blur of of fighting, healing, and defensive spells for what seems to be an eternity. Brianne doesn’t want to draw too much attention to herself, so she mainly sends out barriers, healing spells, and the occasional Fear or Paralysis glyph. The staff responds beautifully to her, and her magical stamina increases as she relies on the projection power from the staff instead of using extra magic to propel her spells where she needs them to travel._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Venatori force is severely lagging, and one of the trebuchet captains has the brilliant idea to fire into the mountainside above where the rest of the army seems to be. This causes an avalanche, and the Venatori agents still fighting in the camp begin to retreat, certain their back-up had been taken out. A cheer rises up through the Inquisition, and even Brianne raises her staff in the air to shout in triumph._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Their victory is short-lived as their shouting is drowned out by an earth-shaking screech. A fireball the size of a house shoots down from the sky to land on the area housing the siege-weapons. Brianne had prayed that she’d never smell the scent of burnt flesh again. She should have known not to hold out hope._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Cullen yells out orders to retreat, and a sea of Inquisition soldiers floods through the now open gates. Brianne sends out pulses of healing to the men and women rushing past her, attempting to brush her hand against as many as she can reach. No one pays her any mind, except Cullen, who’s looking at her like she’s one apple short of a bushel. Caldwell, Cassandra, Dorian, and the Qunari are the last group to reach the gates. Cullen and Caldwell shut the doors behind them as a dragon flies overhead, raining fire upon the town._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Did you see that!” the Qunari yells in what sounds suspiciously like excitement. His eyes are trained skyward, but Caldwell and the rest of the party are looking at Cullen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What now?” Cal asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“We need everyone in the Chantry. It’s the only building that might hold against…” Cullen is interrupted by another draconic scream, and a nearby building simultaneously bursts into flames. The Qunari (Bull, is it?) shouts something in a language Brianne’s never heard before, and charges in the direction the dragon went._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Wait,” Brianne orders, slamming her staff into the ground at her feet. Rejuvenating barriers spring into place around everyone. Cullen is the only person that flinches, whether in surprise or in fear, Brianne is not certain._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Thanks, _Saarebas, _” Bull says, and continues on. Brianne isn’t certain what he’s called her, but judging by the look on Dorian’s face, she thinks it might not have been a good thing.__

__________“Get everyone to the Chantry, Commander,” Caldwell orders. “We’ll keep them distracted as long as possible.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Make them work for it,” Cullen says, a grim expression marring his handsome features. The groups separate, and Brianne follows after Cullen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The don’t get very far up the path before Brianne hears someone shouting for help. It’s a feminine voice, coming from down the path to their right. Brianne looks and notices a handful of Venatori warriors grappling with a lone female in templar armor. Brianne takes off towards her without thinking about it. She can hear Cullen shouting that she’s going the wrong way, but she ignores him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Coming to a skidding halt behind the warriors, Brianne releases a Mind Blast, causing them to go flying in different directions. The templar turns to the closest one and finishes him off. Brianne throws a barrier around the woman and works the beginning of a Fear spell when she feels someone come up behind her. Turning, she’s just in time to be splashed with blood as Cullen pulls his sword from the back of the warrior that was about to skewer Brianne._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She smiles her thanks, but Cullen is lunging forward and wrapping his shield around her to create a wall between her and another Venatori warrior that has recovered from her Mind Blast. Brianne finishes her Fear spell, and the remaining Venatori turns and runs straight for the templar, who easily guts him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Many thanks Commander, Enchanter,” she says to them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Get yourself to the Chantry, Lysette,” Cullen orders. The woman nods and takes off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Are we going to be stopping to save everyone we meet, Enchanter?” Cullen asks her as they follow after Lysette._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Are you saying you wouldn’t be doing that even if I wasn’t here, Commander?” she retorts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Surprisingly, Cullen graces her with a weary half-smile. Just the smallest upturn of the corner of his lips has Brianne’s heart racing. _Pull yourself together Lochland, _she chides, focusing once more on getting to the Chantry.__

____________They make it back to where they began and travel up a flight of stone steps before Brianne and Cullen are rushed by three Venatori. Brianne drops a barrier around herself and Cullen and freezes one of the enemies while Cullen engages the other two. All of a sudden, a dwarf pops into existence next to Brianne, shooting a bolt from his crossbow at the frozen Venatori soldier. Brianne lets out a shriek at his sudden appearance, more in surprise than in fear. The dwarf apologizes with a wink and joins Cullen in fighting the other Venatori._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Confident that the men have the fight in hand, Brianne races over to the nearest house where she thinks she hears a voice calling out. The top of the house is on fire, and the door is jammed shut. Looking through the window, she sees a man lying on his back, clutching his side. She gives the door a few more violent shakes, but it’s not budging. She glances around to see if there’s anything she can use as a battering ram, but sees something else that quickly causes her to change tactics._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________To her left is a ladder leading up to a wooden sentry post. Climbing that, she then jumps from the platform onto a tall stack of crates. Brianne carefully scales a large, wooden beam that has created a bridge between the crates and the roof of the house where the man in trapped. Once she reaches the roof, Brianne covers herself in a Fade Cloak, takes a deep breath, and jumps into the house through a hole that the fire has created._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The man screams as Brianne drops down into his house. She makes sure to tuck and roll so as not to hurt herself from the fall. She pops up directly next to the injured man. His blonde hair is stuck to his forehead, and he’s shaking from terror and possibly shock. Brianne introduces herself, does what she can to stabilize his broken ribs, and numbs the pain. Hoisting him up as best she can, she turns to the door and pauses. The man, Seggrit, mumbles something into her shoulder that sounds suspiciously like, _Didn’t think this through, did you? _Brianne is about to inform Seggrit that she is more than willing to leave him where she found him, when something slams into the door of the house. It happens again a second later. The third time’s the charm, and the door splinters. Brianne is left staring at the thunderous expression of the Commander of the Inquisition.__

______________“You couldn’t have waited just a few more minutes?” Cullen asks her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The dwarf is standing a little ways behind him, and he chuckles. “So who’s your new friend, Curly?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cullen meets Brianne halfway to the door and takes Seggrit from her. “Enchanter Lochland, meet Varric Tethras. Varric, this is Enchanter Lochland. She’s an old friend of Trevelyan’s.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Is that right?” Varric says as he shakes her hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Enchanter. I hope you’ve got some good stories for me from our dear Herald’s younger days.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Being a bit starstruck has rendered Brianne speechless. All she can manage is a vacuous smile and some emphatic head bobbing. Varric smiles and winks at her again before following after Cullen, who’s already left both of them behind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cullen has taken the left path up more stone steps, but Varric heads to the right towards another building that’s on fire. Brianne makes a split-second decision and follows Varric, signaling to Cullen to continue on when he looks back at them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Hoping he’ll take Seggrit to safety, Brianne focuses her attention on slipping past the fighting outside of the building to see if there’s anyone inside that needs help._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She finds a female elf in a tattered dress attempting to lift a giant beam off of someone lying underneath a pile of rubble. “Don’t jus’ stand there!” the elf shouts when she sees Brianne. Brianne crosses the building and tells the elf to back away. The elf doesn’t, sending some choice curses Brianne’s way, but pales when Brianne’s hands begin to glow with blue light. The elf scrambles away from the rubble just as Brianne energizes the beam, lifting it off the unconscious person and using it to secure the portion of the ceiling above them. Brianne hears the elf say, “Only time any magey business is good fer anythin’,” as she runs over to the person lying prone on the floor._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The elf begins to pick the person up, and Brianne shouts at her to stop, approaching to kneel over the unconscious human woman the elf is trying to save._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Are you stupid or sumthin’? The bloody tavern’s on fire!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“You could hurt her even more if you move her before I see what’s wrong,” Brianne explains patiently. It’s easier to stomach someone yelling at her because they’re afraid for a loved one, rather than afraid of her for simply being born with magic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________As Brianne is examining the woman, an enemy soldier comes into the tavern. The elf shouts at him and unslings the bow strapped to her back. She somersaults away from Brianne and her charge, drawing the soldier’s attention as she shoots arrow after arrow at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne works fast, taking advantage of the distraction the elf is providing. It only takes seconds to see that her charge merely has a concussion and some extensive bruising across her chest and abdomen. Brianne conserves her magic and gently heals the woman just enough for the concussion to subside. The woman wakes up just as the elf finishes off her combatant. With the proclamation of, “I suppose yer alright, for being all magey,” the elf grabs the human’s hand and exits the tavern._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne leaves the way she came in, and she’s just in time to watch Varric finish off the last of the enemies he engaged with. He grins at her, and Brianne wonders at the people Cal has surrounded himself with. “Up for one more stop before we head to safety?” the dwarf asks her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Lead the way, Messere,” she says. She sees Varric cringe at the address as she follows him up another set of stone steps that winds through a cluster of houses._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________There’s another elf there as well, this one male. He barely spares a glance at Varric before ordering, “Help Minaeve.” Brianne sees that the elf is running glowing hands over the body of an unconscious man. She leaves him to his work as she helps Varric locate Minaeve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The woman is on the other side of the stack of clay pots in the center of the area in between the houses. Minaeve is sitting up, but refuses their help in standing. Brianne finally realizes that one of the woman’s legs is broken, and the opposite leg’s foot is fractured in several places. Brianne begins to heal what she can, when she hears Varric cry out, “We need to move! They’re gonna...”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Several things happen at once. Varric is interrupted by the nearby pots exploding. Fragments of clay go careening in every direction, and fire erupts from where the pots used to be. Right as this happens, a barrier materializes around her, Varric, and Minaeve. Brianne has never felt magic like it before. She can see the weave of the barrier in the air around them, a delicate latticework woven as thin as gossamer and as strong as dragon bone. She can’t even feel the heat from the flames as they wrap around the barrier and slowly dissolve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Maker’s sacred bride, Chuckles. That was a close one!” Varric exclaims. He’s turned as pale as the snow around him. ‘Chuckles’ is now standing, supporting the man he was tending to when they first ran up. Brianne finishes healing Minaeve enough that she can bear to be moved from where she’s sitting. “Onward to the Chantry,” Varric says, and their groups moves away from the wreckage of the houses._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________They’re right outside the Chantry doors when a large group of Venatori charges them from the left. Brianne reaches deep into her reserves, readying herself to call on a Blizzard, when all of a sudden a woman in Inquisition light armor comes barrelling out of a tent behind where the Venatori have them cornered. With several precise slashes of her sword, she takes out two of them before they can react to her. “Get inside!” she calls to Brianne and company._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________They make it inside, and the guards begin to close the doors, when Brianne looks back at the Inquisition agent. She’s become overrun by soldiers, and Brianne is certain she won’t make it through the fight. Brianne tries to slip through the closing doors when she feels a hand clamp down on her bicep. The ready-made argument dies on her lips when she sees it’s Commander Cullen. He gently tugs her back into the Chantry and takes her place, exiting the building to help the woman. The bar dropping down to lock the doors closed is loud in the quiet Chantry, and Brianne can still feel the hot brand of Cullen’s fingers where he had held her arm. She hears someone call out Enchanter Lochland! and she turns her back on the doors._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________If someone had told Brianne that she’d find the First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle and former Arcane Advisor to the Orlesian Court in the middle of Haven’s Chantry, Brianne would have laughed in their face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________And yet, Madame de Fer is right there, looking resplendent in vyrantium samite battlemage armor. The woman is smiling, and reaches out to take one of Brianne’s hands in hers, giving it a welcoming squeeze. “What in Thedas are you doing here, my dear?” she asks the stunned mage._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Madame de Fer...I...uh...I’m here to help.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Of course you are, darling. I was just surprised to see you. Do you bring news of the Rebels? The Herald will need to know everything that has been going on with them if the Inquisition is to incorporate them into the new order that will eventually come to pass. I’m so glad you decided to become a part of that future, Enchanter. I knew you had great potential and promise the first time I saw you at Court.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne fights to keep hysterical giggles from escaping, if only to keep from accidentally insulting The Iron Lady. Leave it to her to be scheming and dreaming of the future while the world is falling to pieces around them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Enchanter?” someone else calls to her. Brianne turns to see the male elf from earlier, along with Varric. “Master Tethras tells me you’re a healer. If I might borrow you for a moment?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne bows to Madame de Fer and walks over to the elf, whom Varric introduces as Solas, apostate and Rift mage. Brianne can practically see both Varric and Solas mentally documenting her lack of reaction to being told she’s in the presence of a lifelong apostate, and somehow knows at least one of them will be speaking to her about it later._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She joins both Solas and the Chantry Mother in tending to the wounded. There aren’t at it for very long before the doors open wide again for Cullen, Dorian, Bull, Cassandra, and Caldwell come rushing inside. Tension that Brianne hadn’t realized she’d been holding inside her body releases itself once she sees that all three men are fine. (And since when did both Cullen and Caldwell join Dorian on her list of people incredibly important to her?) They don’t move far into the Chantry. Dorian collapses against the nearest column while Cullen and Caldwell begin speaking animatedly. Brianne is startled when she suddenly realizes someone is sitting very close to her, and she jumps when she hears a young man say, “You made it. He’s very glad you made it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne goes still when she recognizes the boy sitting to her left. “Am I dreaming?” she asks him, all of a sudden very afraid._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“No! Don’t be frightened. All of this is real. I...I just wanted to say you should talk to him. I didn’t mean to scare you.” With that, he vanishes before her eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne blinks and fights off a wave of fatigue that washes over her. She looks down at the sleeping soldier she had been helping, and wipes her hands clean on a piece of cloth. Standing, she looks over at Cullen and Caldwell. The urge to find out what’s happening overwhelms her, and she makes her way across the crowded Chantry, intent on speaking to the both of them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andraste, Creators, and the Stone below! I have NEVER had as much fun writing something as I did this chapter. I hope you like it. Oh I hope you like it. 
> 
> Saarebas is Qunlat for mage. 
> 
> Next time: Who's up for a trip to Nevarra?


	20. In Ignorance Stumbling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next leg of Brianne and her mother's journey: Nevarra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “We have forgotten, in ignorance stumbling,  
> Only a Light in this darken'd time breaks.”  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

Brianne and her mother stayed with Clan Lavellan for longer than they originally intended to. She was certain that it was for her own benefit, but her mother seemed to enjoy their time with the Dalish as much as her daughter did. 

Once Keeper Deshanna explained that the traditional route her clan wove through the Free Marches brought them close to the Neverran border, Annika had asked if her and her daughter could travel with them. She promised that they would look after themselves, feed themselves, and keep mostly to themselves; Annika only hoped that The Keeper would allow them to share in the security that the clan brought during the nighttime. Deshanna smiled at Brianne’s mother, dismissed her promise to keep away from the Dalish, and offered her and her daughter jobs within the clan, for if they were going to be travelling together, then they would need to be put to good use.

Brianne’s mother ended up having several jobs over the course of the months it took to reach Nevarra. She acted as security when the clan travelled through an area known to be full of hostile wildlife or bandits. She received lessons in hunting with a longbow so that she could add to the hunter’s ranks in areas of the countryside known to be quiet and peaceful. Finally, Annika provided song and entertainment at night. The Dalish were surprisingly curious about the Chantry and its teachings. Annika sang her favorite parts of the Chant, and what she couldn’t sing, she would tell as stories to the children and adults alike.

Brianne would laugh at her mother getting flustered over an elf making comparisons between Andraste and one of their elven gods, or making connections between Chantry teachings and elven proverbs. Annika never got mad, though. She would blush and stumble over an explanation as to why stories and teachings of The Maker and The Creators might be similar, but she made sure to couch her words in respect and tolerance. It put Brianne in mind of the debates her mother and father used to have. On those nights, she would fall asleep in her mother’s arms, exhausted from crying and living with the bone-deep ache of missing him.

For the first time in Brianne’s life she spent most of the day with children her own age. In Ostwick, she used to visit her father every day in the Circle. There were children there her age, and she would play with them every so often, but most of the time she was home alone with her mother, or father, or one of their neighbors that had agreed to watch her while her parents worked. Brianne had never spent a full day in the presence of another seven year old. 

There were days where Brianne wished she could wander off to escape the noise and energy of her Dalish playmates, but they soon became few and far between. Brianne learned basic survival skills, Dalish history, and whatever magical skills or theory The Keeper happened to be teaching her First, a boy a named Syrrion. He was a few years older than Brianne, and very friendly. Initially, Brianne tried to sneak into their lessons, hiding behind objects and eavesdropping on their conversations. Keeper Deshanna caught her after a single day of spying, and invited her to join them.

Brianne was finally learning how to harness her magic and protect herself from demons. Her mother had taught her several techniques for focus, concentration, meditation, and mindfulness that she had learned as a templar. Those techniques had been helpful tools that Brianne used regularly, but The Keeper was showing her what spells were useful for everyday tasks, what spells optimized healing, and what spells would do the most amount of damage using the smallest amount of magic.

Even though it took months to reach the Nevarran border, time seemed to fly by. Before Brianne knew it, they were saying tearful goodbyes to the clan of elves that had become a second family to them. Keeper Deshanna made Annika promise that they would send word when they reached Cumberland safely, and that if they somehow weren’t able to make it to Highever, they would come back to Clan Lavellan again. She mapped out the route that the clan had been following for centuries, so that Annika would know where to find them.

Entering into Nevarra was much simpler than trying to enter into Kirkwall. There was a platoon of guards spread out across the border, but other than quizzing them as to what their business in Nevarra was, they waved the pair through without a second glance. From there, it was just a matter of days before they reached Cumberland. The city stretched out across the coastline, a monolith of industrialization and commerce.

Getting into the city was easy as well. The men stationed at the towering gates took their names down in a ledger and welcomed them to Cumberland. Brianne’s mother asked one of them for recommendations on reasonable inns or taverns near the docks. The guard laughed and said that she wouldn’t take her child to any of the way-houses in that part of the city. She spoke highly of a few inns near the College of Magi, and wished them luck. She also advised on visiting the city’s Commerce Office, especially if the women were from The Marches. Annika would need to trade in her sovereigns for Nevarran dragons if she wished to spend coin anywhere in the country.

Waiting at the Commerce Office to exchange currencies took the rest of the day, and irritated her mother in a way that Brianne had never seen before. Annika paced and huffed, relying on Brianne to wait patiently in the line that wound itself around a marble fountain in the center of the grand hall that was calling itself an office. Her mother kept pressing her fingers into the space between her eyes above the bridge of her nose. It took Brianne an embarrassingly long time to realize that her mother wasn’t feeling well. It so rarely happened that Brianne thought her mother impervious to illness. She offered to discreetly get rid of her mother’s headache, but Annika refused, snapping that she was fine. At the shocked look on her daughter’s face, she immediately apologized, and spent the rest of the time with her arms around her daughter, waiting in never-ending line. 

The Commerce Office was located in the heart of the city. All the nearby inns and taverns were priced well above their means, so they started their trek to the docks district, hand-in-hand, watching the sun setting behind the towering buildings.

Brianne had never seen anything like it. Cumberland was easily three times the size of Ostwick. Maybe even four. The largest of Ostwick’s houses could have fit comfortably inside of the Commerce Office. The buildings rose into the sky like trees, blocking out the sun even before it had truly set. The cobblestone streets were clean of refuse, and the colossal statues of men and women (whom Brianne didn’t recognize) kept watch over the citizens traversing the streets.

It was full dark by the time they found an inn they could afford that still had an open room. Brianne waited by the hearthfire while Annika dealt with the innkeeper. She followed her mother up the stairs and down a long corridor until they found the door with an arbor blessing hanging from it. They entered, dumped their meager belongings on the floor, and fell onto the small bed underneath the single window in the room. The bed was barely large enough for her mother, but they knew they could make due. They’d slept in worse conditions before. 

“We missed the window of time for supper. We’ll have one more night of eating travel rations.”

Brianne shrugged and climbed over the limp form of her mother, making her way to their bags and digging through them to find the dried nug strips and fruit they’d been living off of the past week. She brought them back over to her mother, who sat up and took some from her daughter. They ate in silence, and when the food was gone her mother urged Brianne to go to sleep. Tomorrow they would make inquiries about ships, both passenger and cargo, heading to Ferelden. With any luck, they’d only be in Cumberland for a few more days.

Brianne removed layers of clothing until she was left in her smalls. She climbed into bed and drowsily watched her mother tidy up. Annika moved their bags onto the table at the opposite end of the room. She placed their shoes by the door, moved them, and then moved them again. Brianne attempted to ask her mother why she was fussing and fidgeting the way she was, but the Fade was calling to Brianne, and she slipped into sleep without any resistance.

Brianne was woken by violent thrashing. She took a knee to the stomach before she knew what was happening, and heard her mother fall to the ground with a thump and a cry. Even after sending a pulse of healing to her midsection, it was still painful for Brianne to sit up and look over the end of the bed at her mother. Annika’s body oscillated between clenching open, arms stretched at her side like she was tied to a board; and curling shut, arms covering her head as though to protect it. 

“Mama?” Brianne called to her, hoping it would be that simple to wake her from her nightmare.

“No!” her mother screamed, thrashing wildly again. “No! No, no, no…”

Brianne scrambled off the bed and stood above Annika, unsure of what to do. She had never woken someone from a violent dream before, and was afraid of her mother hurting her (but more concerned with how upset her mother would be with herself when she found out she’d injured her daughter). Brianne wished she’d asked Deshanna if there was such a thing as a calming spell. It would have come in handy right about now.

“NOLIN!” her mother bellowed, voice cracking under the weight of her heartbreak and fear. 

Brianne knew she needed to stop this immediately, before someone showed up to see what was wrong. Bracing herself, she grabbed her mother’s wrist the next time it came flying past her. Holding on, she visualized sending warmth and peace through the limb. She envisioned it travelling through her mother’s arm, across her collarbone, and down into her heart. 

Her mother stilled, and for a few seconds Brianne thought it was working. That is, until her mother lurched up and caught Brianne around throat with her other hand. Brianne was forced onto her back with her mother towering over her, eyes still closed and teeth bared like a wild animal.

Acting completely on instinct, Brianne let off a Mind Blast. Unfortunately, her mother had a firm grip on her daughter, and both went skidding across the floor to crash into the side of the bed. 

There was a loud banging on the door, and a male voice called out, “What in The Void is goin’ on in there? Knock it off or you’ll be spendin’ the rest of the night somewhere else.”

Brianne lay on the floor, listening to the man’s footsteps as he walked back down the hallway. She glanced over at her mother, who was finally wide awake, and completely bewildered.

“Annie, what…” her mother began, but stopped when she saw her daughter wincing as she got up from the floor. 

“You had a nightmare.” Annika still looked confused as she helped her daughter back onto the bed. “You had a bad dream. You were shouting and…”

“I hurt you.” It was not a question, but a declaration of guilt. Her mother could see the faint bruise on her daughter’s stomach from earlier. Brianne rushed to heal the bruising around her throat from her mother clamping down on it, but Annika saw that too. She let off a pained sound and retreated to the table, as far away from her daughter as she could get. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she said.

“It’s okay Mama. I’m okay. When I’m done, can I see if you’re okay? You were thrashing around and stuff. Your muscles might be hurt.”

“No,” Annika replied, and Brianne didn’t push back. She would find a way to covertly see if her mother needed healing, but it could wait.

“What were you dreaming of?” 

“Nothing. I...I don’t remember.” Brianne could see the lie in her mother’s eyes, which were trained on the floor at Brianne’s feet. It was something else she choose not to push for a response, knowing her mother was most likely dreaming of her father. Being a nightmare, the dream was almost certainly of his death, a thing which Brianne wouldn’t want to relive either. 

“We’ll need to find an apothecary tomorrow. I’ve never had nightmares like that before. Must be stress. I’ll see if I can find a sleeping potion that will help. I’m sure it won’t be that expensive. Back to bed with you, Annie. We’ve got a full day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Brianne settled back into the bed, and didn’t argue when her mother made a sleeping pallet for herself on the floor. Her mother did come back over to tuck her daughter in, kissing her on the forehead and whispering another, _I’m so sorry, baby, _into Brianne’s hair.__

__As Brianne drifted off to sleep again, she didn’t notice her mother’s fingers trembling slightly as Annika sat on her pallet, braiding her hair to take her mind off the dark future she saw unfolding before her._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me as I was writing this chapter: why wasn’t it clan Lavellan? They’re in The Free Marches, you dolt! It was simple enough to go back and change. Just wanted to point that out, in case anyone thought they were going crazy. Yes, it was Clan Varadis, but now it’s Clan Lavellan. (For those of you historians: Yes, I realize that Clan Lavellan’s domain is the northern part of The Marches, so Kirkwall/Nevarra would be waaaay too south for them to be. Sorry. I’m enacting creative license. The Clan went on a walk-a-bout farther than they intended.)
> 
> Up next: Attack on Haven, Part 3.


	21. What Has Been Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne tries to help get everyone out of Haven alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Again, I followed the dialogue as it appears in-game, but I modified it in order to accommodate the new characters.
> 
> “Call to Your children, teach us Your greatness.  
> What has been forgotten has not yet been lost."  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

Brianne weaves her way through the injured soldiers and civilians as she approaches Cullen and Caldwell. The sheer numbers of the hurt and weary men and women momentarily overwhelm her. Madame de Fer and Solas have done the best they can to help, but neither of them are truly healers. Creationist magic does not come easily to them, as is clear by the lyrium potions they keep drinking, along with the feeling of their magic, chaotic and heavy, as it works against its nature to heal instead of destroy. 

As she moves abreast of the Herald and Commander, she sees Dorian turn towards the doors of the Chantry and catch someone as they collapse. Brianne moves past Cullen and Caldwell to reach Dorian and his charge. She sees that it is a Chantry brother; the golden sun emblazoned on his robes shines in the candlelight, catching her eye. Dorian introduces him as Chancellor Roderick and details the wounds he received from standing against the Venatori attempting to breach the Chantry. 

The three of them are close enough to Cullen and Caldwell that Brianne is able to overhear their conversation as she works to stop the chancellor’s internal bleeding. Sweat is beading on her forehead and the ironbark staff is digging into her left shoulder blade. She listens to Cullen tell Cal that they are pinned. With no access to supplies and no escape route, the Inquisition is trapped in the Chantry while the dragon assaults Haven.

“There have been no communications of any kind. No demands or ultimatums. As far as we can tell, their goal is complete annihilation of our forces and stronghold.”

“It’s the same treatment the mages received,” Dorian joins in, leaving the chancellor in Brianne’s capable hands and closing the gap between where she is kneeling with the chancellor and the space where the Herald is pacing restlessly. “The Venatori take what they want, no questions asked, no bargaining attempted. Any resistance was curbed with the sharp end of a dagger or red lyrium shoved down an unwilling throat.”

“What! Red lyrium?” Cullen exclaims, his skin taking on a sheen of pallor.

“They want the Herald,” Brianne says with absolute certainty. All three men turn to look at her. She isn’t sure how she knows this, but she does. She has the fleeting sensation that someone is standing directly behind her, but a quick glance over her shoulder shows that no one is there.

“If they wanted me for something, why are they doing this? No commander in their right mind would send an entire army to procure a single person from somewhere, whether it be a town or a fortress,” Cal reasons.

“No. They don’t want you for anything. They want you dead. Their Elder One wants you dead,” Brianne explains slowly, the thoughts seeming to flow through her as if from someone else. It’s disconcerting, and she has to stop healing the chancellor to sit down on the floor next to him with her head in her hands.

“Annie?” All of a sudden Cal is kneeling next to her. The hand he places on her shoulder is a grounding presence.

“I’m alright,” she says, smiling up at him. He’s grown into such a handsome man, almost a complete stranger, but she can still see her childhood friend when she looks at him. His skin is darker than she remembers, just a shade or two lighter than Dorian’s, which Cal inherited from his Antivan mother. Other than that, he looks exactly like his father, so much so that Brianne has to check herself from lowering her eyes in deference. She must remember to ask him what has happened to his family, but now is not the time.

“Pavus, have you got any lyrium potions?” Caldwell asks.

“I do, but our Enchanter will not be taking any.” His tone is wry, and causes Cal to look to Brianne for affirmation.

“I’m fine, Herald. Really,” she reassures him.

“You don’t drink lyrium potions?”

“I will tell you about it later,” she promises as he helps her stand.

“I’m not certain there is going to be a later,” Cullen interjects.

“There must be something we can do,” Dorian insists. “Aren’t there more trebuchets? We are not totally out of options.”

“Yes, but at this point none of the plans I have come up with are survivable. Our best bet would be to turn the remaining trebuchets to the mountains above us.”

“And bury Haven?” Cal asks incredulously.

“As I said Trevelyan, this is not survivable. We cannot hold the Chantry, and we cannot fight that dragon, not without losing everyone anyways. At least we have the power to choose how spitefully we end this. Not many have that choice.”

“That is unacceptable!” Dorian argues. “I did not spend days racing from Redcliffe to this Maker-forsaken town just for you to drop a mountain on me.”

“What do you suggest?” Cullen fires back, taking a step towards the mage. “Should we submit in the hopes that they won’t kill us all? Sacrifice the Herald to this Elder One to buy our own safety?”

Instead of backing down, Dorian moves towards the commander, entering his personal space. “Dying is typically a last resort, not first. For a former templar, you think like a blood mage.” 

Dorian must realize the magnitude of what he’s said by the matching looks of horror on Brianne and Cullen’s faces. Brianne feels as though she might empty her stomach, and Cullen’s body language is signaling that he’s thinking of physically lashing out at the mage in front of him. If Dorian regrets what he’s said, he isn’t showing it. He stands resolute in his declaration, chest heaving and stubborn gaze locked with Cullen’s murderous one.

The standoff is broken by Chancellor Roderick heaving a labored breath and claiming, “There is another way.”

Brianne helps the chancellor prop himself up and the men turn their attention to the wounded Chantry brother. “There is a path...you wouldn’t know of it unless you made the summer pilgrimage...as I have. The people...can escape...we can...” the chancellor trails off, mumbling something about providence and Andraste that Brianne doesn’t catch. 

“Roderick. Roderick!” Cal practically has to shout to get the man’s attention again. “You’re saying there’s another way out of the Chantry? Out of Haven?”

The chancellor nods. Cal turns to Brianne and asks, “Will he be able to show us?”

“It won’t matter,” Cullen interrupts. “Even if there is an escape route, we won’t be able to traverse it. Look around you. Most of our soldiers are wounded. We have nothing to make into litters, no wagons to cart people or goods. We’ll die in the Frostbacks without food or shelter. Not to mention we’ll have the Venatori chasing us the whole way, along with their dragon.”

A grim expression crosses Caldwell’s face. “Not if their dragon is occupied and their forces are being buried by an avalanche.”

No one has anything to say to that. Brianne turns back to Chancellor Roderick and heals him enough that he will be able to guide the Inquisition. Steeling herself, she then turns to Dorian and surprises him by asking for that lyrium potion.

Her friend raises his eyebrows, but silently hands it over. She hasn’t been hiding her reasons for avoiding lyrium, she just hasn’t found the time to talk with Dorian about it. She resolves to speak to him about it later, knowing he will understand once he hears her story.

The potion’s vial is small and slim. She grimaces at the sickly sweet taste of it and shivers as the cold, tingling sensation branches out from her esophagus to encompass her entire body. She hands the empty vial back to Dorian, wishing she had something to help wash away the taste. Standing, she makes her way to the middle of the chantry.

She feels the eyes of the men on her, as well as every injured person she passes. Once she’s situated in the middle of the mass of injured Inquisition agents, she plants her feet, closes her eyes, and focuses on breathing.

“Darling, what are you doing?” she hears Madame de Fer asking her from across the Chantry. Brianne doesn’t open her eyes. She knows that the Knight-Enchanter can feel the spell she’s priming. The Iron Lady must be surprised that someone outside of her specialization knows it, although it shouldn’t be. Brianne is a healer, after all.

This is why Brianne was sent away from Ferelden, why it was deemed necessary to surround her with as many seasoned templars as possible.

She is possibly one of the most powerful healers of the last century. Irving had said as much to her the day she left for Val Royeaux. She lets loose her secret a moment later when she throws her arms wide, swirling her staff through the air as she begins to cast Resurgence.

“Darling, I don’t think…” The Iron Lady begins, but is cut off as the spell finishes priming and Brianne releases it. Several green glyphs form on the ground around her and slowly dance their way across the Chantry floor, casting an otherworldly glow over every individual they pass through. There are gasps and collective sighs as those within the surrounding area are healed of all injuries. Some soldiers attempt to run from the approaching spell, and Brianne hears both Madame de Fer and Solas reassuring those panicked individuals that a healing spell is being cast, nothing more. Brianne holds her arms aloft, her staff stretched outwards as she attempts to maximize the area of effect. The Chantry is larger than it seems, and for a moment she’s worried that it won’t reach everyone.

With her eyes open she can see the expressions on her companions’ faces. Solas and Dorian seem to be impressed, although Dorian is more obvious about it. The solemn elf’s lips are curled in a strange smile that Brianne hopes is a good sign. For how calm Madame de Fer’s voice is as she hushes the soldiers that stare at Brianne with fear in their eyes, The Iron Lady is upset with her. While everyone is transfixed on the light show the spell always produces, their gazes following the floating sigils and green lights that branch out from where Brianne has planted herself, Madame de Fer walks at a fast clip towards Brianne, muttering to herself about fool mages willing to kill themselves to make a statement. Caldwell and Cullen are the only two people staring directly at her. Cal is positively gleeful, grinning from ear to ear at her display, as though he’s a child that’s been left alone in a sweet shop. 

Brianne’s heart breaks when she realizes that Cullen is terrified. His eyes are locked on her, and she knows he’s fighting the urge to follow the small collection of Inquisition soldiers that are retreating to the outer edges of the chantry (along with the female elf Brianne remembers helping earlier) in an attempt to dodge the spell. The commander stands his ground though, hands grasping the pommel of sword in a death-grip, jaw clenched and muscles twitching. Even as the spell washes over him and he is healed, he still doesn’t relax.

Brianne’s vision begins to go fuzzy around the edges, and she gives one final push, emptying her magic reserves. It is with sinking dread that she realizes that it isn’t enough. The spell stops short of reaching the people along the periphery of the building. Even after restoring her magic reserves with the lyrium potion, Brianne apparently isn’t powerful enough to heal an entire chantry full of people. 

Nevertheless, she should be happy. They now have most of their force in fighting shape again. That should be more than enough people to lead the charge out of the Chantry and through whatever escape route they need to take, with plenty of soldiers leftover to defend the others, but Brianne is not satisfied. In fact, she’s devastated. She thought she could do this. She thought she was strong enough. How is she supposed to earn her place in the Inquisition if she can’t even heal those that need healing? If she can’t be counted on to come to their rescue when they need one? 

So many have died. As her vision fades, she thinks of Felix sacrificing himself to strike a blow to the Venatori. She remembers the conversation she had with Alexius, all those months ago, where he showed her that he was just a father doing everything in his power to protect his only child. He died for nothing. If the Inquisition cannot make it out of Haven, Felix will have died for nothing. The fathers and mothers, siblings and families that were slaughtered at Redcliffe as she ran like a coward will have died for nothing. Everything will turn to nothing because of one silly little girl that did not have the strength required to do what needed to be done.

Her knees hit the ground and she can hear people calling her, their voices far removed and muted. Someone is there to catch her before her upper body gives out. Someone is cradling her against their solid, broad chest, but she doesn’t know who it is. They are brushing her hair away from her face and talking to her, but she doesn’t know what they’re saying. She wouldn’t be surprised if they were scolding her for how weak she is.

_Well, well, well Enchanter. Quite the pickle you’ve gotten yourself into, _another voice says to her, this one bright and clear in her mind. She fights to keep her eyes open to see who it is, but she’s so tired.__

_I admire your skill and determination, but as you can see, it’s not enough. Let me help you, Brianne._

____“Mouse?” she calls out, finally recognizing the voice._ _ _ _

____“A mouse? Did she just ask if I was a mouse? No, Annie, it’s Cal. Everything’s alright. Let’s get another lyrium potion in you. What do you mean you don’t have anymore, Pavus? Someone get me a lyrium potion!”_ _ _ _

_Yes, Brianne. It’s me. I can lend you some of my power. We can tap into the residual energy of your spell to pick it up again. You can heal everyone you need to. You can lead them to safety. You can make sure they live._

______“How…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We’re just waiting for a potion, Annie. I can’t believe you did that. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Pavus called it...a resurgence? I’ve heard of Circle Knight-Enchanters that belonged to a platoon of templars working that kind of magic during battles, but seeing it up close was incredible. Your father would be so proud, Annie.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_And you want to make your father proud, don’t you Brianne? You want to prove that mages are invaluable, to be cherished and treated as equals. Let me help you, my friend. Let me help you._

________Through her half-lidded, unfocused eyes, Brianne finally sees where Mouse is. He’s barely visible, standing directly behind Caldwell as he sits with her in his lap on the Chantry floor. She knows she should be wary, but Mouse is her friend, just a simple spirit of Wisdom. He’s been visiting her since her Harrowing. They’ve shared stories and secrets, and he’s helped her when she’s been in need of counsel. Her hand is heavy and sluggish as she lifts it past Cal’s shoulder, reaching out to Mouse’s translucent form._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Mouse reaches for her in return, with a smile on his face. She has just enough time to wonder how it is that she can feel his hand slipping into hers, when she hears an almighty shout of, _NO!_

__________It feels as though she’s been struck by lightning, every nerve in her body igniting in pain, and her eyes roll back into her head. As she falls unconscious, she can see the faint image of the boy from her dreams grappling with a demon. The boy’s daggers flash in an after image against her closed eyelids. The demon screams its outrage as Brianne tumbles through the Fade, certain that she’s somehow made a terrible mistake._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Brianne and her mother pass time in Nevarra until an opportunity presents itself.


	22. Once More I Will Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A change in the pattern, but for a good reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Depictions of assault on a child (poor Brianne just can't catch a break). It's real short, and starts with the paragraph "She heard the barely-there shuffle..." I know I just completely ruined the surprise of it, but I'd rather ruin surprises than induce panic or PTSD attacks.
> 
> Long was his silence, 'fore it was broken.  
> "For you, song-weaver, once more I will try.”  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

Brianne and her mother moved to a different inn the following night for several reasons (mostly due to the fear they both had of being thrown out in the middle of the night if her mother had another nightmare). Annika had been able to find an apothecary in the Merchant’s District earlier that day, but the goods they sold were pricier than anticipated. Her mother bought a bottle of something that was supposed to last her several nights, but they had to find a cheaper inn in order to accommodate the extra expense.

Brianne wasn’t discouraged, as the city was so large there had to be plenty of options for them to choose from. They spent the rest of that day weaving their way through the cobbled streets of Cumberland’s Docks District, with Brianne taking in the sights and architecture while her mother tried to find the next passenger ship heading to Ferelden. Annika cursed their luck when at the end of the day they had nothing to show for their time exploring the docks other than fingers still sticky from sweetbread and the knowledge that the next ship heading to Ferelden was not scheduled to leave for another month.     

Good fortune found them anyways in the form of an inn. The Dragon’s Song sat at the outermost edge of the Docks District. The proprietor was an elderly man that lived in the suite at the top level of the large building. His daughter, Iona, and her husband ran the inn for him, and just happened to be looking for help. After Annika signed paperwork that allowed them to rent a room for the next thirty days, Brianne was hired, as it were, to do the jobs that Iona didn’t like doing. Brianne would wake people at Maker-forsaken hours of the morning, carry food or bathwater to rooms, and empty chamber pots. It was strenuous at times, but Brianne found that she liked it. She felt like she was contributing to their life in a way she hadn’t been since leaving Messere Ealga’s farm. Brianne got along with Iona fairly well, and she was content to pass her days working around the inn and spending hours daydreaming of the new life waiting for her in Ferelden.  

Within a few days of staying there, Iona’s husband was able to get Annika a job with one of the rich merchants as a cargo guard, or “hired muscle” as Iona’s husband would say with a grin. Her mother would leave the house as the sun crested over the sails of the ships in the harbor and wouldn’t return until after Brianne had gone to bed. Annika assured her daughter that she was earning a lot of coin working for this merchant, and that every dragon earned was a small step towards owning their own, spacious house set in the middle of several acres of lush, Ferelden Coastlands.   

Brianne and her mother fell into an easy routine, and without either of them realizing it, they had passed more than a month away in Cumberland. 

Brianne confronted her mother when she realized that the end of Harvestmere had come and gone, which meant that they had missed the passenger ship that would have taken them to Highever. Despite her daughter being distraught, Annika stayed calm and collected through Brianne’s tantrum. She explained that staying in Cumberland, specifically at the Dragon’s Song, was eating through more money than she had thought it would. They had fine clothes, a soft bed, and a small collection of things to call their own, and all of it had cost dragons. Annika promised that she hadn’t forgotten about Ferelden, it was just that they needed to stay in Nevarra for a bit longer in order to be completely prepared for the life that waited for them in the near future. 

That was the only time Brianne confronted her mother about their timeline. With  her anxiety eased by her mother’s patient words and confident plan, Brianne fell back into her daily routine. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. Before Brianne knew it, she was was celebrating her eighth birthday at the end of Drakonis, which marked six months of living in Nevarra and a just over a year since leaving Ostwick.

Brianne was banned from doing her work around in the inn the morning of her birthday. Iona had made cheese pastries and allowed Brianne to have as many as she wanted for breakfast. Brianne threw her arms around the Nevarran woman and tried not to cry, wishing she could eat her surprise breakfast with her mother by her side. 

Brianne insisted on taking Iona’s shopping list over to the Market District. She spent far too long wandering the labyrinth of streets with their brightly colored banners and pressing crowds, taking her time looking at every stall and shop-corner, haggling with merchants as though she was ten years older than she really was. They were used to her smiling eyes and quick wit, and several merchants caved the second she began negotiations over the price per pound of flour to be delivered to the inn, or one fisherman’s broad concept of the term _fresh _seafood.__

__It was just past lunchtime when Brianne returned to the Dragon’s Song. Iona was busy with customers, and Brianne had little to occupy herself other than the work she did so that her and her mother’s rent would be reduced. Exiting to the back of the inn, Brianne spent several hours washing and mending linens with the sun shining down on her and the ocean breeze pulling strands of hair from her braid to tickle her nose._ _

__At dinner, Iona’s husband presented Brianne with a gift. It was a long, teal-colored ribbon. He said he saw it and thought of her, and Iona joked that she was jealous of such a thoughtful present. After eating, Brianne sat in the common room to listen to guests of the Dragon’s Song tell stories of their travels, reasons for being in Cumberland, and drunken tirades on the state of the nation, all while Iona brushed her hair and braided the teal ribbon into it. She went to sleep with plans to buy some fabric of the same color, for Iona said it made her eyes look  more blue than gray, and her hair more blonde than straw-colored._ _

__Brianne hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet when she heard the lock click open in the door. It was a quiet sound, one easily missed, but Brianne was familiar with the noise from her mother coming home late at night. Smiling to herself, Brianne shifted closer to the wall to make room for when her mother finally climbed into bed._ _

__She heard the barely-there shuffle of feet against hardwood, and had a moment to wonder why her mother’s footsteps sounded different than they normally did, when the pillow next to her head was lifted up and slammed down on top of her face. Brianne flailed, attempting to scream through the downy mass, but her arms and legs were tangled in the covers, and no noise made it through._ _

__Panic set in, causing her to lash out harder. It took her head beginning to swim from lack of air before she realized she had more weapons in her arsenal than she was using._ _

__Blasting her assailant back, she popped up launched herself off of the bed. Not caring that she was dressed only in her smalls, she threw open the door and made it halfway down the hallway before a beefy arm wrapped itself around her midsection and lifted her off her feet. Brianne let out a blood-curdling scream that was cut off by a callused hand covering her mouth and pinching her nose shut._ _

Brianne knew, with absolute certainty, that she was going to die. If, no, _when _the man made it back to her room with her, it would only take a harsh twist of her head and she’d be gone. Fear rose up, and hot on its heels was anger. How dare this person try and take her life from her. She was happy! Who did this thug think he was, playing the Maker with her life? She was the daughter of Knight-Captain Annika-fucking-Eduards!__

____Brianne took that anger and shoved outward. The man shouted and dropped her like she was a hot coal, which, for all intent and purpose, she was. Smoke wafted off the hooded man with muscled arms the size of druffalos. Sneering, he confessed, “I was sorry for half a minute that my mark was a child, but not anymore. Fuckin’ mage bitch. You and yer cunt of a mother deserve what’s comin’ to ya.” With that, he lunged._ _ _ _

____Brianne saw red. Before she knew it, the man was staggering away from her. His body was engulfed in flames and the pain was so great he didn’t even cry out as he fell to his knees in the middle of the hallway. Without sparing him a second glance, Brianne darted around the burning corpse and into her open room. She threw on the first outfit she could get her hands on, grabbed the sparsely packed emergency bags hidden in the back corner of the closet, and began her hasty escape. She had to be quick. She was certain the commotion would have woken everyone in the inn. She had to get out before they called for the city guard, or worse, the templars._ _ _ _

____Brianne was down both flights of stairs and across to the back exit of the inn in record time. She threw open the door, ready to run into the back alleyway where she had been laundering clothes earlier…_ _ _ _

____And stepped back into her bedroom._ _ _ _

____She stood frozen at the threshold. The bags she had grabbed dangled limply from her right hand. She twisted to look over her shoulder. Sure enough, the larder was directly behind her. It was a small room that had garlic and herbs hanging from the ceiling. A barrel of potatoes was in the darkest corner with a bushel of apples sitting atop it. Turning back to the door she held open, she blinked several times before stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her and walked over to the closet. It was still open, and the bags were missing (the bags she had grabbed in her hasty escape. The bags that were currently in her hand). She went back to the door and slowly opened it. Peering through the crack, she saw the hallway outside her bedroom where she had left the burnt corpse. The fire had gone out, a thin layer of hazy smoke hung in the air, and the corridor smelled of charred ram._ _ _ _

____“I’m dreaming,” Brianne said to herself. “This is a dream. Of course it is.” She sighed and let her head thump against the wall of her old bedroom. “Why did it have to be this memory?”_ _ _ _

____Hands latched themselves around her throat and a hard voice whispered in her ear, “Because ya should’ve died, ya sorry piece of bronto shite.”_ _ _ _

Brianne tried to scream, but only managed a choked gurgle. She scrambled to remove the hands around her neck, but her fingers passed right through them. _How is this possible? _she thought.__

______“Ya weren’t meant to live past this night. Ya were supposed to die in that bed. Yer mother would’ve moved on, had a better life. Everythin’ would’ve been different, and it’s all yer fault for not dyin’.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne attempted to Mind Blast her attacker away, as she did with the hired goon in her memory, but nothing happened. The deep, male voice chuckled into her ear and squeezed harder. “Just let go, girl. Let go, and everythin’ will be better. The world will be better without ya in it. Ya know it’s true, deep down.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______For several slowly fading heartbeats Brianne believed him. Everything bad that had happened to her parents was her fault. Everything bad that had happened to her friends was either her fault, or tied directly to her in some fashion. It would be so easy to just let go. She was tired of being afraid all the time. She was so tired..._ _ _ _ _ _

_Demon, _she realized in a moment of clarity. This was a demon, trying to gain control of her body by destroying her spirit. She would not let it. This was her dream, and Void take her she would not let this be her ending.__

________She was the daughter of Nolin Lochland and Annika-fucking-Eduards._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She reached for the demon’s hands again, and this time they were corporeal. She pried them off of her neck with inhuman strength, and her attacker screamed in outrage. Brianne let go of the wrist she held in her left hand and spun around. She used her momentum and the fabric of her dream to pull the demon along as well, flinging it into the wall. There was a great crash and the wall caved in. Brianne readied an ice glyph, but nothing rose up from the rubble. She inched her way towards the fallen beams and planks. After waiting for what seemed an eternity, she realized she was being ridiculous again. With a wave of her hand the wall flew back together, leaving nothing but empty, exposed flooring._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The demon was gone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Brianne materialized the teal ribbon from her memory and walked over to the mirror hanging above the only dresser in the room. Her eight-year old self stared back at her, and that wouldn’t do. Within the next blink, Brianne’s was gazing at her twenty-six year-old self. The teal ribbon she had been holding now curved its way through the long, simple braid hanging over her right shoulder. She smiled at her reflection and said, “Now I just need to wake up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Waking up isn’t as simple as she thought it’d be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________How does one normally wake oneself from a dream? Brianne has no idea. She normally just wakes up on her own. She’s never had to force herself into wakefulness before._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The first thing she tries is willing herself to wake up. She stands in the middle of the room concentrating only on the act of waking. She gives up after an indeterminate amount of time full of nothing happening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The second thing she tries is verbal commands. She paces across her small bedroom speaking to herself. “C’mon Lochland. You can do this. Wake. Up. Wake up! Wakey wakey, Enchanter. Rise and shine. Up. Maker take this nonsense. UP!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The final thing she tries is physical danger. Remembering the strange shared dream she had several months ago with the templar that made her toes curl and her heart ache, Brianne thinks she might wake up if she puts herself in harm’s way. Thinking back to how she woke up before her body could hit the ground (after tripping on her beautiful and opulent dress), Brianne opens the bedroom window, which in real life was on the third floor of the inn. Peering out, she sees nothing through the dense, gray fog. She isn’t worried; it’s the same fog that normally lines the edges of her dreamscapes. It’s the signal that she’s about to leave her dream and enter into the larger world of the Fade. At this point in time, she’s willing to risk tumbling into the Fade if it means she’ll wake up back in Haven. She perches on the windowsill with legs dangling out into the fog and butt planted on the ledge. Bracing herself, she takes a deep breath and pushes off into nothingness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Seconds later, she opens her eyes to find herself lying on a bed. She bolts upright, ready to ask the closest person what happened, only to realize it’s the bed in her old room, and that she’s still all alone. In the Fade._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She fights the urge to scream in frustration, then realizes there’s no one around to judge her. So she lets one loose._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Feeling marginally better, she gets off the bed and contemplates her options. There aren’t many. She settles on waiting where she is, for she has to wake up eventually. Right?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Right?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________What if she never wakes up? What if something happened between the Resurgence she cast and...whatever came next. What if she’s in a coma? Coma patient’s minds are active. She knows this from past experiences with those in her charge. What if her mind is off dreaming while her body lies dormant, alive but unable to awake? What if that’s the reason she can’t wake up? An image flashes through her mind of her friends grieving her, and suddenly the scene materializes in front of her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She’s dressed in a simple, homespun gown of teal. She’s laid out on a bed with her hair loose on the pillow. A dawn lotus is tucked behind one ear. She looks at peace as Dorian sobs over her torso. Caldwell stands stoic next to the bed, but she can see the clenching of his facial muscles, as though he's fighting to keep his emotions from showing. Cullen enters the scene suddenly. He kneels on the floor next to the bed and gently cups one of her cheeks. Rubbing his thumb along the curve of her cheekbone, he slowly leans forward and…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Oh for the love of…” Brianne exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. It effectively banishes the scene, the characters in it breaking apart into wisps of smoke. Brianne walks over to the still open window and huffs a noise of exasperation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

That was ridiculous. Of course that wasn’t happening right now. Dorian hadn’t broken down like that over Felix’s death. There was no way he would be so uncouth in front of witnesses during hers. And Cullen! The man flinches when she casts a barrier over him. He would never, _could _never, feel anything for her but professional admiration mixed with a heaping dose of fear. Stupid, stupid mind. Stupid, ridiculous heart.__

__________“I need help,” she says aloud. “Please. Maker, Andraste, Creators, Ancestors, anyone. Help me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ve been trying!” Comes an immediate response. Brianne jumps, but still looks out of the window, searching for who’s talking to her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Down here,” the familiar voice calls. Brianne squints through the fog until she sees the outline of someone waving at her. “I can help you if you come down.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Overcome with hope, she’s halfway across the room before she stops abruptly. Brianne has only just survived a demon encounter. What if she has attracted another through the anxiety and desperation she’s probably unknowingly channeling through the Fade. Going back to the window, she calls out, “Name yourself, spirit.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m Cole.” At the sound of the spirit’s voice, the fog lifts enough for her to see the features of his familiar face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You’ve visited me before. You wanted me to help that templar. You’re a Coal? What kind of spirit is a Coal?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“The starting and ending of larger burnings; a steady warmth to last throughout the night. I am me. There is no other. _I _am Cole."__

____________“Your name is Cole,” she clarifies for herself. He blinks owlishly at her, and Brianne stares at him staring back at her as she leans out of the window. She’s uncertain how to proceed. She thought he was a spirit. When they met the first time, he manipulated the Fade as if he was, but maybe not? Maybe he’s a dreamer. Spirits don’t have names._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Dreamers can't do what I do, hear what I hear, help the hurt that I can. I would help you, but I can’t reach you! Pain and pride in gilded seats, grief underneath every laugh, she shines so bright yet battles to dim the sun. It’s been waiting for you a long time. He smiles when you’re near, and can smell the rosemary again. I made a promise, so I couldn’t let it take you. I had to help, but I made it worse.”  
____________

____________Choosing to skip over the parts she doesn’t quite understand, she asks, “What has been waiting for me?”____________

 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“The hurt claiming to be your friend.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Okay…” she trails off, unsure what to make of that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You need to go back before it’s too late.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Yes! I want to wake up. Can you...uh…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Cole must be able to read her mind (or at least pick up on all the emotions she’s dumping into the Fade around her), for he begins to reassure her. “I came to help. Your friends are sad while you sleep. They cannot focus. They will get hurt, and I made a promise.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“If I follow your instructions and let you help me, you will not be coming back with me,” Brianne warns. She folds her arms over her chest to show how serious she is._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Cole looks crestfallen. “But I don’t belong here anymore. Home is helping, following the songs heavy with their burden, changing the tune from sorrow to…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I’m sorry, Cole. You cannot catch a ride to my world through my body. I will not become possessed just to save my life. I might not want to die like this, but I don’t want to live like that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The spirit-yet-not-spirit looks at her as though she just asked him to magically produce a gryffon for her flying pleasure. “I don’t want to be you. I’m _me _,” he retorts, speaking carefully, as though he’s talking to a simpleton. The absurdity of it sinks in, and she starts laughing. Cole doesn’t join in, but as she’s wiping the tears from her eyes she can see a baffled smile on his face.__

______________Calming down finally, she clears her throat and asks, “So how do I wake up?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Finish what’s begun,” he says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“And what has begun?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Your dream.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She pauses to see if he’s going to add anything else. When it’s clear he’s just going to keep standing there, looking at her with his pale eyes, she repeats, “I have to finish the dream I was having.” Cole nods his head at her and her eyebrows furrow in frustration. “But I did. I stopped the assassin. It played out exactly as it did in the past.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He shakes his head side to side. The brim of his oversized hat flops violently with the motion. “You have to keep going. The exit is the end.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“The end? I have to relive the entire night!” she protests._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“It wants it to be painful. It wants it to be hard. The lessons you’ve learned have lasted, steel forged in the hottest flames, impurities burnt from flesh and bone. It wants to remake you in its image, dull and pliable, molded and controlled. You must keep your shape.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne sighs and stretches her arms. She forces herself to yawn, twisting her hands and arching her back to maximize the pull of her muscles. When she’s done, she smiles at her newfound companion and declares, “Well, I had better begin if this is ever going to end.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cole smiles back, albeit reluctantly, as though he’s not quite sure he’s doing it right._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“So, how do I move forward?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“You move forward.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Okay. Let me rephrase. What do I need to do to cause the dream-memory to continue?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“You move forward.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________A giggle escapes her, even though it seems wildly inappropriate. She can’t help herself. “After I exited the inn, I ran to get my mother. Are you telling me I need to physically follow the same path I took?” Cole nods, looking pleased with her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She turns to make her way back down through the Dragon’s Song. She’s mildly disappointed when her bedroom door doesn’t open back into the larder. She tries to will the dreamscape to comply with her demands, but for some reasons it’s not working anymore. When she reaches the bottom level, she goes to the front door this time. Opening it, she stares out into the swirling mist, waiting for Cole to show up. She calls out to him, but doesn’t hear a response._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne waits as long as she can stand to, but it seems as though the spirit has vanished. Praying that she isn’t walking into another trap, she steps out into the Fade, determined to make it back to the waking world however she can._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this went in a direction I hadn't originally intend, but I trust my beta. We'll see what happens.
> 
> Next up: Brianne navigates her way through the Fade.


	23. If They But Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne gets her bearings in the Fade, then takes a walk (or manic sprint) down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “To My children venture, carrying wisdom,  
> If they but listen, I shall return."  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 1, Andraste Begs The Maker to Give Mortals Another Chance

Brianne isn’t sure how long she’s been wandering through the mist of the Fade. The fog is so dense that when she extends her hands in front of her, she can’t see her fingers. Luckily, the landscape is completely flat, as though she’s walking on marble flooring. There aren’t any sounds or landmarks for her to follow. For all she knows, she’s been walking in giant circles for several hours. Or minutes. Or days. Time is meaningless here, and the longer it takes for her to find her way back to the memory that was interrupted, the higher her anxiety ratchets.

Her mind begins to wander back to Haven. She wonders what happened after she fell unconscious. How many were able to follow the Chancellor out of the Chantry to escape? Who was sent to distract the Venatori forces to facilitate the Inquisition’s retreat? Are her friends with the survivors, or are their corpses lying in the burning rubble of the once-sacred village?

Suddenly, the fog swirls violently around her in a vortex of dizzying movement. Brianne has to shut her eyes for fear of getting vertigo and falling over. When she cracks them open after several seconds of waiting, instead of a demon or a spirit, she’s greeted with the sight of snow and mountains.

She opens her eyes fully and blinks several times. By the third blink, people have joined the landscape. Lines and clusters of haggard, weary people trudge their way through what seems to be a mountain pass. They move around Brianne as though she’s simply a large boulder in their path. No one looks at her, and after a moment of her waving her arms around outlandishly, she accepts that no one will. 

The earth rumbles underneath her feet, and every person in the caravan freezes and looks back the way they came. Brianne does as well. Off in the distance she can see snow descending along the side of one the peaks of the Frostbacks. It’s a small avalanche, and Brianne follows its trajectory with her eyes to see what will soon be covered in several feet of snow. Nothing of import will be affected, or so she thinks until she notices what seems to be the top of a chimney sticking out of a snowy hill. Scanning the valley below her, Brianne realizes several things at once. 

First: there has already been a larger avalanche here. She can make out the tops of houses and trees completely covered in freshly disturbed snow. The smaller avalanche must be an aftershock. Second, and more importantly: Haven is what is buried underneath the mountain’s worth of snow. She can see the lake with the dilapidated bridge and some of the taller posts that fortified the wall around the village. Some of them are clear of snow, highlighting where the outskirts of town used to be.

Brianne knows that she’s in the Fade, and that she can’t trust anything that she sees, but she also knows that the Fade reflects the world it’s connected to. Brianne hopes that what she’s being shown is true: that somehow the Venatori are buried under pounds of freezing snow while the Inquisition travels through the mountains to safety.

It makes Brianne wonder where she is. She can’t be in the Chantry still, as it’s been demolished via avalanche. Is she among those fleeing? How could she be, if she’s unconscious?

She hears shouts from somewhere behind her. Turning back, she sees a cart at the crest of the pass they’re on. It’s stopped moving, but the path is wide enough that the flow of people continues around it. It takes several minutes for Brianne to trudge her way up to it through the snow. By the time she reaches her destination, there’s a gathering of Inquisition agents attempting to dislodge the front right wheel from the snow bank it’s stuck in.

The cart was carrying bags of goods along with several people. Brianne observes two injured soldiers helping each other out of the back. Once they’re out, a young boy hovering nearby helps a heavily pregnant woman out of the cart and onto her feet. After helping her, the boy goes back to the cart and begins to pull something else out. Brianne can’t see very well with the throng of people pulsing their way around the immobilized wagon, like water in a river flowing around an obstacle. All of a sudden, Dorian is next to the cart. He says something to the boy that causes him to flinch away from the mage. Brianne watches as Dorian shoos him away with precise hand motions and takes over the boy’s task. 

“What in Thedas are you doing, Dorian?” Brianne asks out loud as she closes the distance between herself and her friend. She can see him struggling to lift something out of the cart, but his body is blocking her from seeing what it is. She is distracted by Cullen coming around the side of the halted wagon. He looks as tired as she’s ever seen him (which she supposes isn’t saying much, as she hasn’t really seen him in almost a decade.) Her admiration grows as she watches him interact with his men. It’s clear he’s weary and frustrated, but he’s still calm and precise with his words as he speaks to his soldiers. When it’s clear that they aren’t going to be freeing the cart anytime soon, Cullen directs those gathered on where they should move the goods, then gently ushers Dorian out of the way and deftly lifts the final item from its resting place. Brianne is rooted to the spot, mortification paralyzing her, as she realizes what Dorian has been fussing over and what Cullen is now cradling in his arms.

It’s her.

Andraste, Creators, and the Stone below, please, _please _let that not be what she looks like right now.__

__Her face is a deathly shade of gray that she normally sees on her most serious of patients. Deep bruises mar the skin underneath her eyes. Her lips as chapped and split, and her hair is so greasy it’s coming out of her braid to lay in clumps around her face. She doesn’t make any noise, nor any movement as Cullen repositions her head so that it’s tucked in the crook of his neck by his left shoulder. Dorian says something to him and smooths a hand over her hair as they walk together, but Brianne can’t hear what’s being said past the ringing in her ears._ _

__She makes to follow them, but is stopped by her name being shouted. She can’t tell where it’s coming from, but after spinning around slowly, she spots a man making his way through the throng of people towards her._ _

__It’s Mouse._ _

__“Brianne! There you are,” he calls to her. He has a welcoming smile on his face and his hand is raised as though to make sure she spots him. She waits for him, and right as he reaches her, he lowers the hand that was in the air and rests it on her shoulder. It should have been a comforting, friendly gesture, one that Brianne has always been open to receiving._ _

__It wasn’t._ _

__Her entire being flinches away from the spirit standing next to her. In that single moment of contact, Brianne’s stomach bottomed out, and her soul shrieked a warning of DANGER! RUN! She’s never had a reaction like this to Mouse before, but then again, she’s never been stuck in the Fade for this long. Also, she can’t remember Mouse touching her, or even attempting to touch her, while she was in his presence._ _

__Mouse notices her flinching away from him, and for a moment his face transforms into an expression Brianne’s never seen before, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. He retracts his hand, and concern radiates from his tone and posture._ _

__“I am so glad I found you, Enchanter. I have been searching for a while now. It puts me at ease seeing that you’re unharmed.”_ _

__Still recovering from the strange moment they’ve just had, Brianne distractedly asks, “Do you know what’s happening?”_ _

__Mouse waves his hand around them. “Do you mean in this scene you’ve found yourself in, or in a larger context? You will have to be more specific.”_ _

__Taking a deep breath to center herself, she changes her question. “What happened in the Chantry? How were you there and what did you do?”_ _

__“I was there because you needed me to be there. The Veil has always been thin in that part of the waking world. The Breach intensified that.”_ _

__“But it was closed. Cal closed it.”_ _

__“Cal? Wasn’t that the name of your friend from one of your memories? I take it he has grown up into the Herald of Andraste if he personally closed the Breach in the Veil. Interesting…”_ _

__Goose bumps rise on Brianne’s arms at Mouse’s tone. She needs to change the subject. “You’ve never come to me like that before.”_ _

__“As I said, you needed me. I heard you cry out from the Fade.”_ _

__“I did not ‘cry out’ for you.”_ _

__“Oh, not for me specifically, but my dear Enchanter, you were calling out for help. It could be felt in the Fade for miles. You were lucky that I was the one to answer it, and not some demon. You could have been taken advantage of. As it was, a demon interrupted me before I could lend you aid. That’s why you are where you are now.”_ _

__“Cole?” Brianne says, more to herself than to the spirit beside her. As she thinks back to the encounter in the Chantry, Brianne remembers the vision she saw before falling unconscious: the image of Cole, with blades drawn, battling a large demon. But if Cole was Cole, what was the demon?_ _

Cole’s words from earlier flash through her mind. _“The hurt claiming to be your friend.”_

____No. It couldn’t be._ _ _ _

____Mouse has been visiting her for years. Years! He has never attempted to possess her or use her in any way. She tells him stories, shares her memories, and he gives her wisdom and strength when it is most needed. She would know by now. She would know if he was a demon!_ _ _ _

_“It’s been waiting for you a long time.”_

______No. She would be calm and rational. She would find the truth, not jump to conclusions fueled by the ramblings of a sort-of-spirit she just met._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is that what it’s calling itself? Disgusting creature. It used to be a spirit of Compassion, that much I can tell, but it’s twisted itself into something else now. I’d stay far away from it, Enchanter. Nothing good can come from even speaking with it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne nods her head in acquiescence, which causes Mouse to smile again._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It must have heard your call as well. It interrupted me as I was about to connect our spirits so that I could lend you my power. That is why you seem to be stuck here. It is an easy fix though. All I need to do is complete what I started and you will have enough power to force yourself back into the waking world.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Incredulously, Brianne repeats, “You were connecting our spirits?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Mouse goes still for a moment, but almost immediately relaxes again. “Well yes, Enchanter. I could not lend you my power any other way. I am a spirit. I cannot materialize magic that does not exist. It has to come from somewhere. I had begun the process when it was interrupted. You are tethered to me, as it were. Albeit, it’s a very small tether,” Mouse grins as though he’s made a joke, one that Brianne doesn’t get. “That is why you are stuck in the Fade. It is easily rectified. I will complete our connection, and you can go back to your friends.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Speaking very carefully, Brianne states, “Mouse...that sounds a lot like possession.”_ _ _ _ _ _

The expression of bewilderment on the spirit’s face would have been comical any other time. Right now, it just seems affected, as though he’s trying to make it seem like it hadn’t occurred to him as well. _Shit, _Brianne thinks to herself. _I really don’t want to lose this friend.___

________“Brianne...my dear Enchanter...I understand that it may seem like that to you, but it would not be.” Brianne raises her eyebrows, but he continues. “I would immediately extricate myself once you were back to where you needed to be. Or, if you felt so inclined, I would stay with you until you asked me to leave. Have I ever…” he points his finger at her accusingly, “...lied to you? Mislead you? Caused you harm? Why are you not believing in me now, after all that we’ve been through?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________She wishes she could give him an answer that doesn’t involve Cole or fanciful ideas inspired by her intestinal tract, but she can’t. She stands in silence for too long as she searches for what to say, and Mouse gets impatient. Brianne watches his jaw clench and his eyes narrow. She realizes she needs to appease him in some way. If he’s telling the truth, and she’s ‘tethered’ to him, what kind of damage could he do if displeased with her?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Is there really no other way out of the Fade?” she beseeches. “I thank you for coming to my aid when I needed you, but I didn’t truly understand what was happening. If I did, I would never have allowed you to try and help me. I would not have agreed to this kind of binding of souls, or spirits,” she corrects herself. “Please, Mouse. Help me get home another way.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________His veneer patience finally cracks. Sneering, he says in a hard voice, “There is no other way. You have a piece of me with you, Brianne. And I of you. Either both of us are going back to Haven, or both of us are staying here. It is your choice. Do you see yourself over there?” He points to Cullen, who has made his way to another cart, presumably to set her physical body in it. He hasn’t yet. He walks next to it, keeping pace as he chats with Dorian. Cullen seems to be focused on the Tevinter mage, but Brianne notices that he’s playing with the end of her braid, and one of his hands is keeping her face cradled in the crook of his neck. “It seems that there are several people who are missing you. Do you not want to go back to them? Do you see your body, what it looks like? You’re dying, Enchanter. A body disconnected from its spirit cannot last for long on its own. But I’m sure you know this, as a healer.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I cannot trust what I see,” Brianne recites. Circle teachers run deep, as she always reminds herself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Ah, but you can here. This is my home, you see.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Your home?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yes. Very ancient, very powerful spirits have pockets of the Fade they call their own. You are in mine.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne narrows her eyes. “Then why did it take you so long to find me? You said you’d been searching for awhile.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Mouse closes his eyes and stands very still. Brianne finds that she’s holding her breath. She’s hoping and praying that this will not turn out how she thinks it will._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But it always does._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The spirit throw back his head and laughs. It’s not the kind, jovial sound she’s used to. It’s deep and rough, rocks scraping against metal, fear pooling in her gut, _Oh Maker please no…_

__________“When will I learn?” Mouse says, throwing his arms wide. His features are stretched gruesomely across his face as he looks her up and down. “Pride cometh before the fall.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And with that he’s gone. Everything’s gone, and in its place is a blizzard so strong Brianne is almost bowled over by the winds screaming through the Frostbacks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________After standing in the blizzard for several minutes, calling for Cole’s help, Brianne does the only thing she can think of: she kept moving._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It’s slow going at first. She might not feel the cold as she normally would have in the waking world, but the wind is real enough to batter her about, and the snow thick enough for her to struggle to trudge through. She thanks the Maker for small mercies, as hypothermia would have begun to immediately set in. She’s dressed in the same worn dress as her childhood self was at the end of the memory that led to this wintry escapade._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

As she walks, she tries to keep her mind focused. She had been thinking about Haven and her physical body, so the Fade had shown them to her. _Mouse’s part of the Fade, _Brianne reminds herself, so who knows if what she witnessed was real or not. She doesn’t know what to trust anymore.__

__________Slowly but surely the blizzard ends, followed by the snow layered on the ground thinning out. Brianne thinks she sees, off in the distance, the beginning of a cobbled street, so she takes off at a dead sprint for it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne had never run so fast in her life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She was flying down the main street of the Docks District, not attempting any kind of stealth. Why would she? Her priority was to get to her mother. The scary man that had broken into her room and tried to end her life had mentioned that her mother ‘deserved what’s coming to her.’ He could have meant coming home to find her daughter dead, or he could have meant something else. Brianne wasn’t going to wait around and find out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her mother had never told her exactly where she worked. She said it was because her work was dangerous sometimes, and that Brianne needed to stay away from it. Annika had given her the address of someone who was in contact with her while she worked. If there was an emergency, Brianne was to send for her mother at that address. She had memorized the numbers of the townhouse on Admiral Lane. She chanted them in her head as she raced towards her destination._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne had hoped that she might run into her mother as she made her frantic dash through the darkened district of Cumberland. Surely her mother took the most straightforward path home at night? It had to be near to when Annika’s shift ended. Taking the turn too sharply onto the next street, Brianne slipped on the slick road and fell down on one knee. Ignoring the sting and burn of split skin, she propelled herself forward again and kept moving._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________12...18...22...26 Admiral Lane! Brianne skidded to a stop and threw herself at the door, pounding as hard as she could. When no one answered, she forced herself to take a step back and look around. No lights were visible through the windows. In fact, the townhouse almost looked abandoned. But that couldn’t be right. Someone should be there. They were just asleep for the night, like any normal person would be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne tried opening the door, but it was locked. She went to pull her lockpick kit out of her bag, then decided against it. She was too exposed at the front door for that. Brianne spotted a small alleyway separating the house from its neighbor. It was just large enough for a small girl to squeeze down._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She was attempting to reach a window to see if she could open it from the outside when she heard voices. Slowly sliding her way back towards the front street, she halted when she heard what the couple was saying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Looks like Saul ain’t back yet. Lazy-arsed twat. ‘Ow long does it take ta knife a girl in ‘er sleep?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Less ‘e changed ‘is mind. Fucker be’er no’ ‘ave.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Who, Saulie? Man’d snap a kit’en’s neck if id ge’ ‘im a copper.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, well a kid’s no’ a kitten, is it?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The man and woman laughed together for a bit, and Brianne held deathly still, waiting for more._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Shame ‘bout tha’ ex-templar. Migh’ee ‘andy in a brawl she was. Didn’ mind havin’ ‘er guard me back.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, well, thems the rules, righ’? Tabs can’t ‘ave anyone no’ payin’ their debts. Don’ ma’er how handy she is.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Was,” the man corrected her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The woman cackled. “As I recall, ya didn’ kill the bitch, didja?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I migh’ as well ‘ave! Stuck ‘er good I did. If she don’ die from bleedin’ out all over the Avila’s pier, the guards’ll drag ‘er to the stocks.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Aye, I bet you wish you’d stuck ‘er good.” Both of them burst into more laughter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne heard the telltale sound of a key turning in a lock, and both voices disappeared into the townhouse._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Once she was certain there was no one in the street anymore, Brianne was off like a rock from a slingshot. The Avila Pier. She had to get to the Avila Pier. Thank the Maker’s holy bride she knew exactly where that was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It wasn’t far. She followed Admiral Lane down to the waterfront, then moved along it eastward. The Avilas were a wealthy merchant family from Tevinter. They had a pier of their own for their cargo ships. Their ships’ sails were stark white with yellow birds soaring across them. Brianne had looked out into the harbor many times to see them. She used to pretend the ships were being pulled by the giant, yellow birds. It made Iona laugh the first time Brianne showed her through the windows of The Dragon’s Song._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne’s heart stopped when she reached her destination. She could see, farther down the pier, two people lying motionless on the wooden planks. There was enough light from the moon to make out her mother’s shape, and the recognizable armor she wore every day when she left the house._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne got her hands on her mother as fast as she could. There was so much blood. The wood was sticky with it, seeping into Brianne’s dress where she knelt. She had never worked so quickly in her life. Annika’s body was weak. So weak. So tired. It didn’t want to get better. Brianne strong-armed her way through her mother’s mental defenses and shook her. She would not die. Brianne would not allow it. Brianne held life in her fingertips, health in every breath, and by the Maker she would force her mother to stay in this world, even if it killed her in the process._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Bag…” her mother gasped out, blood dripping from her lips, and Brianne was transported back to the moment her father had died. “Potion…bag...”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne tore her mother’s bag open and upended it, causing potions and other paraphernalia to spill around them. She grabbed up the two health potions she saw. She force fed her mother the first, and dumped the second straight into her mother’s abdominal wound. Annika spasmed and thrashed. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell into unconsciousness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But not before fighting it desperately. Right before she succumbed to the pain of healing, Annika whispered a strangled, “Help him,” to her daughter. Brianne tried to ask her mother who ‘him’ was, but Annika was finally unresponsive._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Looking around, Brianne saw the man her mother was talking about. He was lying just a few feet away. He was unconscious as well, and she could immediately tell that there was something wrong with his sword arm. Brianne looked back at her mother. She needed to keep healing her, not some unknown person._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But her mother rarely requested that she use her magic. Brianne did little things every day when she was certain no one was around. It felt strange when she didn’t, like one of her muscles was atrophying because she wasn’t using it. She placed one of her hands on her mother’s forehead and another just above her stomach wound. Focusing, Brianne needed to make sure her mother was healing properly before she used up any magic on someone else._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Something was wrong, but Brianne couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Annika had stopped bleeding, and the wound was knitting up slowly. Heartbeat and blood pressure was fine. The amount of blood in her mother’s body was perilously low, but not death-inducing. She would just have to take it easy for awhile until her body produced more. What was it then, that was causing Brianne’s unsease? There was a...buzzing? No. Yes, it was coming from her mother. What was it?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Opening her eyes in order to think more clearly (without the image of her mother’s insides causing her to be distracted), she was presented with the answer. There was a small vial of blue liquid lying by her right knee, along with a quill and her mother’s lockpick kit. The container was so small it probably only held two ounces of liquid. Brianne picked it up and slowly turned it underneath the light of the moon._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It was lyrium. What was her mother doing with a lyrium potion?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It was not for her, she was fairly certain. Brianne didn’t drink them. It was impossible to get your hands on any outside of a Circle. Beyond not being able to find any, she didn’t need any. During their months with Clan Lavellan, Brianne learned how to maximize her stamina and increase her natural reserves. The Dalish don’t brew up lyrium potions, _can’t _brew up lyrium potions, so they’ve learned how to go about life without them.__

__________Tuning back to the blood rushing through her mother’s veins, she recognized the noise. The song in the small vial was soft, calling to Brianne. The reason it sounded like buzzing in her mother was because there was so little left. The song became violent as it died out, turning into a cry for resurrection._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Why was her mother drinking lyrium potions?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It was a question she’d have to pose to her later. For the moment, Brianne turned to the man lying nearby and fixed his broken collarbone and shattered wrist. He woke up towards the end of it, and was quick to believe her when she told him who she was and why she was there. Apparently, ‘Ana’ was always going on about her daughter, and Brianne fit the description perfectly. He explained that he and Ana had been double-crossed by their comrades. Or at least, Ana had. Both of them were tasked with lookout as the rest of their crew pilfered cargo from the Queen Asha. Everything had gone according to plan until they started to leave. Several members of their group turned on Brianne’s mother, and Ulric had helped her defend herself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That’s a terrible name,” was what came out of her mouth next. Maker, what was wrong with her? She could have thanked him for helping her mother. She could have told him that he had done a lot of damage to his liver for someone so young, and to lay off of hard spirits for several years. But no, all she could come up with was ‘That’s a terrible name.’ Maker preserve her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Ulric only laughed and agreed. He said that his fellow thugs had mentioned something about giving up on Ana ever paying her debts off, and Ulric didn’t think it was right, especially if all that lyrium was for her mage daughter. But what can one expect from a Coterie gang? Never mind that Ana was one of the best, most reliable, most skilled members they’d had in ages. It’s all about money and reputation with those people._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________By the end of Ulric’s story (more like impassioned tirade), Brianne’s mother had begun to stir. She checked that Annika could be moved without more harm being done, and Ulric helped Brianne get her mother to her feet. They gave up trying to walk her down the pier after the first few steps, and Ulric scooped Annika up in his arms and tried not to jostle her too much as he followed after her daughter’s retreating form.__________

 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _Just as they cleared the Avila Pier they heard shouts and the unmistakable sound of horse hooves striking cobblestone. Brianne turned to the closest building and tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Making sure they weren’t about to enter someone’s house, Brianne pulled her mother’s kit from the pack in her hand and set to work unlocking the door. Ulric’s chant of, “C’mon, c’mon!” tore at her frazzled nerves. Without a second to spare, the pins finally turned for her. Throwing wide the door and lunging inside the warehouse, she was met with…__________

 _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________A long wall covered in a painted mural of Antiva City. Sun shone through a meticulously constructed stained glass window. Exotic plants covered every available space atop bookshelves and hanging planters. The smell of baked goods was in the air, and Brianne knew the exact path to follow to reach them in the kitchens._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________She was in the Trevelyan Manor. In Ostwick._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You have _got _to be kidding me!” she shouted, fists clenching at her sides. She turned around, and sure enough, Ulric and her mother were gone. The only thing behind her was the long hallway leading to the family suites.__

__________Brianne contemplated knocking over a nearby statuette in a contained fit of frustration, but decided against it when she heard voices drifting into the antechamber where she stood. Sighing and rotating her shoulders to force herself to relax, she headed in that direction. What did she have to lose, at this point?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Oh, only your life as an independent, thinking and breathing human being, _she thought, answering her own rhetorical question.__

____________What she found when she followed the laugher of familiar voices surprised her. The entirety of the Trevelyan family, along with several people she didn’t recognize, were situated in the smaller of their receiving rooms. There was a roaring hearth fire even though it wasn’t winter, and a small assortment of hors d'oeuvres was laid out on the sideboard. The Lord and Lady Trevelyan reclined together in a small love seat that faced the fire. Caspian stood directly next to the fire with his back to the wall and one arm propped against the mantle. Caldwell sat on the floor playing with an infant boy no more than a year old. Kneeling next to him was an unremarkable woman with plain features dressed in one of the most luxurious house gowns Brianne had ever seen. Another young lady she didn’t recognize sat behind a medium-sized harp positioned by the window. She wasn’t playing, but ran her fingers up and down the strings as though she couldn’t bare to be idle. She bore a striking resemblance to Yvette, and Brianne wondered if she was a close cousin or niece._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________All of this was surprising because the people that she recognized in that familial scene were not images from memories past. They were older. Grown-up. Changed. There was no possible way she could have know that Donovan and Yvette would have aged with such grace. Lord Trevelyan looked the same as in her memories, but now his hair was a dark gray all over, instead of brown. Lady Trevelyan’s face had many more lines on it than she remembered, but only had a few strands of silver running through her dark locks. Caspian was the spitting image of his father. He had grown as tall and as broad. His nose hooked in the same, sharp angle, and his smile took on the same shape as Donovan’s. Caldwell looked the same as he had in Haven, albeit more relaxed and carefree. Brianne stood in the open doorway taking in the laughing, talking family, and wondered what kind of trick of the Fade this was supposed to be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Cal looked up suddenly from wiggling his fingers in the baby’s face and caught sight of her. Beaming, he shouted, “Annie!” And propelled himself toward her. He scooped her up in a hug, lifting her feet off of the floor and spinning her deeper into the room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“You can see me?” she asked breathlessly when he finally set her down again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Of course I can see you. I’m so happy you’re here. Everything is perfect now. Oh…” a look of horror crossed over his expressive face. “Oh no. If you’re here, then...oh Annie, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He threw his arms around her again and crushed her in a tight embrace._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________She could feel him shaking as he held her, and continued to whisper how sorry he was into her hair. She squirmed out of his arms and demanded, “What are you carrying on about?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“I...Maker, I don’t know how to tell you this any other way. Annie...you’re dead.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________A single, harsh laugh escaped her. “No I’m not.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Yes, you are. This…” he gestured around the room, “This is Heaven. If you’re here, with me, then you’re dead. Just like I am. I didn’t make it out of Haven. But you wouldn’t know that. You were still unconscious when Pavus got you out of the Chantry. I had hoped you’d all have made it to safety. I thought my sacrifice would be enough. It figures that...”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Caldwell,” Brianne interrupted him. He blinked at her, and she heard his teeth click shut. “We are not dead. This is the Fade. We are simply asleep. Well...my situation is more complicated than that, but I’m certain you’re just asleep. What is the last thing you remember?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No, I know I’m dead. You wouldn’t know. You passed out after working your magic. It was brilliant! You healed almost everyone in the Chantry. Vivienne was put out. She kept going on about how you’d probably killed yourself just to impress an old beau. She can stuff it, for all I care. She pretends to know more than she actually does. She certainly hasn’t bothered to get to know me. No one has, really. Cullen and Varric were with me in Kirkwall. I tried to make time for them, like we used to do, but being the Herald…” Cal’s gaze goes distant and holds the heavy weight of regret._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Focus, Trevelyan,” Brianne says, but softens her command by taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. “What do I not know about?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“After you fell unconscious, Pavus took you with everyone following Roderick. There was a hidden path out the back of the Chantry that led to a little used mountain pass. Roderick wasn’t sure where the pass led, only that we could escape the village if the Venatori were sufficiently distracted. I fought my way through to one of the trebuchets and got in a shot at the mountainside. Caused an avalanche. That’s the last thing I remember: a tidal wave of white before everything went black. There’s no _possible _way I could have survived that, Annie."__

____________“There’s always a way, Trevelyan. So you think you’re dead? And that this is your Heaven?” She looked around the room again at the assembled dream. “Why are all these people here, then? If one can only be in Heaven if one is dead, then explain them to me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Cal looked stricken again. “Do you recognize anyone?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________She pointed out his parents and Caspian, which made him give a half-hearted smile. “Over by the harp, that’s Laurynn. My sister. You left the city just before she was born. And there, with the baby, that’s Elisabeth, Caspian’s wife. Their son, Jacob, was almost two when I left for the Conclave. I missed his birthday. We…” Cal’s voice broke suddenly, “We missed his birthday. Now his father will never see another birthday again.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“The Conclave,” Brianne whispered, understanding dawning. Was everyone at the Conclave with you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“No. Just Cas and Father. Mother, Liz, and her son were in Ostwick. Laurynn’s been in Antiva for several years studying. Oh Annie, you’d have loved her. She drove Cas and Father to drink! So high-spirited. If you thought I was mischievous as a child, Laurynn was ten times worse.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Wait. If they weren’t at the Conclave, then why are they here? Only Caspian and your father should be.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Cal paused for a minute, but then snapped his fingers together. “It’s Heaven. The Maker is allowing me to have my family with me again, as a reward for doing His good work and then having to suffer through having that mark on my hand.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“This is a dream. Look...” Brianne took a few steps towards the loveseat where the Lord and Lady were still sitting. She bowed deeply to both of them and began to speak. “My Lord and Lady Trevelyan. It is so good to see you again. I have never had the opportunity to thank you for helping my mother in her time of greatest need. Truly, you kindness and generosity strengthened her resolve and purpose as we fled the city. Mother tried to get us to your contact in Markham, My Lady, but circumstances did not allow for it. My Lord, your friendship and trust meant the world to my father. He spoke of you often, and alway with admiration and respect. I have never held any ill will towards you for what happened to him. I understand that you were just two nobles in a city mired in a conflict I didn’t truly appreciate until I was older. My eternal gratitude is yours.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Brianne bowed again, as deeply as she would for Empress Celene, but neither Trevelyan said a word in return. Neither of them were looking at her. Yvette continued to look straight through Brianne to speak nonsense at her grandchild on the floor, while Donovan stared at his wife lovingly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brianne turned at Cal with a shrug and an expression that said, _Told ya so._

______________“No,” he insisted. “That...they…I was speaking with them earlier, before you showed up.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“It’s a dream, Caldwell. Your dream. I can’t interact with anyone. Only you can. Watch.” She went over to the sideboard and attempted to pick up an hors d’oeuvre. Right as her fingers touched the delicate, coin-sized pastry, it dissipated into curling mist that came back together when she pulled her hand away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“But…” he continued, looking wildly around the room for anything that might corroborate his belief._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Alright. There is a small chance, a _small _chance you might be dead. You did drop a mountainside on yourself. But now that I know that the avalanche actually happened, I can tell you that many, many people got out of Haven alive. They’ve created a caravan and are travelling through the Frostbacks. They’re heading northeast, I believe. I don’t know what their destination is, but I’m sure that someone has a plan. I know for a fact that I’m there, unconscious, and that Dorian and Cullen are alive. The Commander! I meant the Commander."__

______________Cal sent her a strange look, but didn’t comment on her covering up her initial phrasing. “How do you know this?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I saw it in the Fade as I was wandering, before I stumbled upon you. I know we can’t always trust what is shown to us, but I think what I was seeing was as close to as accurate as can be. Speaking of trust, do you know a spirit named Cole?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cal smiled his first genuine smile since talking about the Conclave. “Yes, I do. Cole helped me when I was in trouble at Therinfall. I wouldn’t have made it out of there alive without him. He’s joined the Inquisition and promised to aid in its endeavors. Solas and Varric have taken an interest in him, so they are keeping an eye on him for me. If he were to turn into a demon, or do anything that might give someone cause to think he was one, I’m afraid measures would have to be taken.” Cal looked unhappy at that, but also resigned. It was a sharp kick in the chest that reminded Brianne that she was talking to a templar. Not an ex-templar, like Cullen, but one who stayed with the Order for as long as possible, who would probably still be in the Order had he not had a magical mark thrust upon him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Caldwell’s question of, “Why do you ask?” broke her reverie._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“He’s visited me in the past, in the Fade. He found me again earlier when I was stuck in a dream, and gave me some advice. I wasn’t sure if I should take it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I would, if I were you. Cole is sometimes hard to understand, but you should try. One time I spent days attempting to puzzle out one of his riddles, and when I did, it was life-altering.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“So you trust him? With you life?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Yes,” Cal responded immediately, without any hesitation. That was good enough for Brianne._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Alright then. Both of us need to wake up now, so I guess I’ll be off. It was lovely to see your family. When we get back, we’ll have to find a moment to say goodbye to them together. I meant what I said when I was talking to your parents.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Wait!” Cal called out, stopping her as she made her way back to the door she came in through. “How...how do I know that I’m not really dead? That I’m just lying underneath a snowbank somewhere?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne came back over to him. “I can try something, but I’m not certain it’ll work. I don’t have a lot of experience sharing dreams with other real people. Do you trust me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He nodded his assent, and she stepped into his personal space, placing one of her hands on the front of his chest where his heart would be, while wrapping the other one around his back in the opposite spot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Uh...Brianne, I never knew you...uh...I can’t say that I’ve thought about us this way before,” Cal joked. She was used to Dorian, though, and recognized it as a way for him to cover up his surprise and discomfiture. She shushed him into silence, and closed her eyes to concentrate on the heartbeat that she would have felt between her hands had they been in their physical bodies._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Several minutes passed and she could feel Cal fighting to keep from fidgeting. Finally, she found what she was looking for. Her body stiffened as she strained to follow the thread that led from his spirit to his body. What she found at the end of it made her relax in relief. He was alive. She couldn’t see where he was, or how he was doing, just that this soul was still connected to a living, breathing body. For all Mouse’s talk of tethers earlier, Brianne had wondered if it was possible for her to somehow find her personal thread and follow it back to her body. Now she had her answer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“You’re alive,” she said, stepping away from her friend. He looked relieved and hugged her again briefly before saying goodbye. She told him that if he woke up before she did, he needed to make his way to the caravan. If she woke up, and he wasn’t there to greet her, she would send search parties back towards Haven._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She watched as he approached the memory of his brother and brought him into a long hug. Brianne did not want to intrude on the goodbyes Cal was finally getting to say. Turning towards a side door that should have led to the gardens, Brianne opened it and stepped back out into the Fade, determined to find her way back before it was too late._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: the last chapter with Brianne stuck in the Fade.


	24. Those Who Oppose Thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brianne escapes the Fade after a final confrontation with everyone's favorite rodent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was brought to my attention that Iona is the name of a Grand Cleric from Nevarra. I did not intend to imply that the innkeeper Iona is also the future Grand Cleric the Inquisitor deals with.
> 
> Those who oppose thee  
> Shall know the wrath of heaven.  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 7:19

Just as Brianne and Ulric cleared the Avila Pier, they heard shouts and the unmistakeable sound of horse hooves striking cobblestone. Brianne turned to the closest building and tried to open the door. It wouldn’t budge. Making sure they weren’t about to enter someone’s house, Brianne pulled her mother’s kit from the pack in her hand and set to work unlocking the door. Ulric’s chant of, “C’mon, c’mon!” tore at her already frazzled nerves. Without a second to spare, the pins finally turned for her. She threw wide the door and lunged inside the warehouse. Ulric was right on her heels, making sure to kick the door closed behind him.

They waited with bated breath as the city guardsmen raced up and down the cobbled streets. The walls of the warehouse they’d broken into were surprisingly thick, keeping Brianne from making out what the guards were saying to each other. It seemed as though Brianne and her companions waited in the empty building the entire night, but finally the noise of horses, soldiers, and indignant merchants died down. 

Brianne finally dared to stretch her legs out from the crouch she’d held for hours. Staying low to the ground, she snuck over to the closest window and peered outside. Sure enough, the mass of city guards, Avila merchants, and dockworkers had thinned. There were still several men stationed at the beginning of the pier, but they would not be able to spot Brianne and company if she led them out of the building through any other way than how they had entered. 

Annika hadn’t made any noise or movement while Brianne and Ulric held their silent, stealthy vigil, even after Ulric had repositioned her so that he could sit more comfortably on the ground with his back to a crate. Brianne opened the palm of her left hand and materialized a controlled flame in order to get a visual on how her mother was faring. The light that the flame cast sent a shadow across Ulric’s face, making his expression seem harsh and grotesque. 

For just a moment he looked as Mouse had earlier on the mountain pass: his features pulled tight by flickering shadows, a sneer marring his round face, and contempt bleeding out through inhumanly colored irises.

Brianne blinked to clear the sudden spots from her vision and he was simply Ulric again, mildly leery of the fire hovering just above the palm of a young mage’s hand, but holding his ground as she cast light upon the woman that reclined in his lap. 

Her mother was healing fine. She would need to rest for several more days, and even then she wouldn’t be able to partake in the labor-intensive activities she usually did. It suddenly struck Brianne that she had no idea what they were going to do. It was certain that whomever ordered her and her mother’s deaths would find out that they were still alive. They couldn’t go back to The Dragon’s Song. They would put Iona and her family in jeopardy, and Brianne would not allow that to happen.

It wouldn’t be too difficult to find another inn to stay at for a night. Maybe two. But then what? Her mother needed to rest for at least a week. Even longer would be advisable. They wouldn’t be safe staying in Cumberland for that long.

Despair must have taken a hold of her features, for Brianne heard Ulric murmur several reassuring words as his hand landed on her shoulder to pat it awkwardly. She couldn’t help but smile at him, and he seemed happy to have helped improve her mood momentarily. 

“Is the coast clear?” he asked her.

“Yes. Thank you for helping my mother.”

The young man made a noise that seemed to say, _Oh it was nothing, _as he carefully situated Annika so that she was sitting up in the spot he vacated. Ulric stood to stretch and yawn, and Brianne extinguished the flame she had almost forgotten about in her hand.__

__“What are you gonna do now?” Ulric asked, voicing her thoughts from moments ago._ _

__Brianne shrugged, keeping her eyes on the rise and fall of her mother’s chest._ _

__“If you don’t mind my askin’, miss, where’s your father?”_ _

__“Gone,” Brianne whispered, shrinking in on herself._ _

__“Sorry, sorry,” he placated. “I was just wonderin’ if you couldn’t go to ground with him. But if he’s gone…” Ulric trailed off._ _

__She looked up to see him staring at her mother with a look of great concentration on his face. He glanced over at her, then back at her mother. Brianne waited patiently while he worked through whatever it was he was thinking about._ _

__“Ana’s been a good friend to me,” he finally said. “As much of a friend as anyone can be in a company of thieves ‘n cutthroats. She was kind ‘n patient when I joined up. Knew she was good people from the start. Could never figure out what she was doin’ with those sorry sons ‘a bitches. Oh, shit. Uh...” Ulric blushed and stammered out an apology._ _

__“What I mean is: I’m not sorry for standin’ with your mother today. Good folk gotta stick together. My cousin’s got a contract with the Merchant’s Guild. Runs a cargo ship between here ‘n Jader. I’m gonna see if I can hitch a ride with him the next time he leaves. I can see if he’ll let me bring company. How’s that sound?”_ _

__Brianne stared at him, uncertainty stilling her tongue. His offer was generous, and would solve the problem they had of the Coterie gang coming after them if they stayed in the city. She wanted to tell him yes, but didn’t know if she should. What if her mother had a plan in place if something like this happened? What if Brianne ruined it by making promises without consulting her first? Would Ulric be willing to wait for her mother to wake up so they could discuss it? She opened her mouth to ask him and was interrupted by Annika making a pained sound as she shimmied herself into a better sitting position._ _

__“Mama!” Brianne scolded as she turned to help her._ _

__“Yes,” Annika said to Ulric, ignoring her daughter. “We need to get out of here. If your cousin will allow it, we will join you.”_ _

__Ulric nodded at her, and the adults made plans to meet later in the day, after Ulric had time to speak with his cousin. Brianne only half listened to them as she continued reassessing her mother’s condition. She had enough presence of mind to mumble a good-bye to the young man when he finally left them. Brianne’s eyes and hands were still on her mother as Ulric pried open one of the building’s side windows and climbed out of it, disappearing into the early morning gloam._ _

__An awkward silence filled the air as Briane settled next to her mother. Annika kept her eyes glued to her abdomen as her fingers picked at the sliced and fraying material of her leathers and tunic. Brianne watched her mother’s face, waiting for the moment when she would look up and Brianne could say something. Anything. She had so many questions, but none of them seemed to be able to make it past her lips as her mother avoided her eyes. Her mother was acting the part of a coward, and that sudden realization bowled Brianne over._ _

She was gripped with anger and humiliation as a voice in her mind whispered, _That’s because she was. Your mother was a coward, and your pride blinded you to her deceit._

____Brianne shot forward onto her knees and practically shouted, “Why?”_ _ _ _

____Annika flinched infinitesimally. Brianne saw her mother’s hands clench and unclench in the fabric she held. It made Brianne all the more angry._ _ _ _

____“Why?” she repeated, and her mother sighed, finally looking up._ _ _ _

____“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, baby.”_ _ _ _

“I’m not a baby!” Brianne snarled. “I’m eight years old. You missed my birthday. You weren’t...you...” she lost steam and trailed off, upset with herself that for all the things she wanted to say, _that _was what had come out. She hadn’t even been that angry that her mother hadn’t spent the day with her, but it seemed that was the tip of the proverbial iceberg of her disappointment.__

______“Annie, I was working. I’m sorry, I had to…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Why? Why are you working for them?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That brought her mother up short. Annika grimaced as she realized that her daughter had caught her in a lie. There was no talking her way around her job with the Coterie._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We needed money,” her mother responded._ _ _ _ _ _

______“But why them? Wasn’t there…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her mother’s hands shot up from her stomach to land over both eyes. She pressed the heels of her palms into both eyelids and curled forward. Brianne reached out with her hands and her magic to see what was wrong, but it caused her mother’s body to lock up even tighter._ _ _ _ _ _

______They stayed in that stalemate until her mother tilted her head forward, and in a pained whisper said, “I’m sick, baby.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Brianne’s heart dropped like a stone to the bottom of the Waking Sea. She forced her mother out of her hunched position and placed a hand over her mother’s heart. She frantically forced her magic to scan her mother’s body for the illness. She could fix it, she was certain, no matter what it was._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, baby,” her mother shushed her in a quiet, resigned tone. “It’s not that kind of sickness.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What is it?” Brianne hadn’t found any glaring signs of damage other than her mother’s trauma injury. Her mother must have just discovered she had contracted something. Or maybe it was hereditary? Brianne could fix it if her mother would just tell her what it was._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Hand me my bag,” her mother said instead. Brianne did as instructed, then watched as her mother dug through the hip pouch until she pulled out the miniscule vial of lyrium that Brianne had seen earlier._ _ _ _ _ _

______Without any warning, Annika popped the lid off and tipped it all into her mouth, swallowing harshly. Brianne made a noise of surprise, but waited patiently for her mother to be done._ _ _ _ _ _

______Annika recorked the vial and placed it back in her bag. She didn’t look up when she continued on. “I made myself sick a long time ago when I became a templar.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Is the lyrium medicine?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Her mother barked out a harsh laugh. “No. Yes. It’s both. It’s what poisoned me and what heals me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_Coward... _the voice in Brianne’s head hissed.__

________“What? How?” she stuttered, trying to focus on the memory playing out and not the demon in her mind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“People who aren’t mages aren’t supposed to ingest lyrium. It does bad things to them, but a long time ago the Chantry learned that templars were stronger when they drank philters. It became part of the job. Templars had to be at their best, at all times. Both mages and non-mages depended on it. The Order warns recruits. We’re told of the dangers, but it seems worth it, especially when you’re young and guileless, with nothing but dreams of serving and protecting fueling you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“The lyrium makes you sick,” Brianne repeated._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Sort of. My body has become reliant on it. When I go without it, I get sick. But I can’t just buy lyrium from an apothecary. It comes from the ground, and the dwarves sell it straight to the Chantry.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Her mother stopped talking and simply looked at her daughter, willing Brianne to understand the implications._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne attempted the connection. “The bad people can get you lyrium.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Her mother curled forward again, as though shielding herself from the truth of her daughter’s words. She didn’t hide her face, though, as she nodded a confirmation to her daughter._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Does it make you so sick you’ll die?” Brianne asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“It could. We’re told that going without it will kill you, but for a long time I just thought that was propaganda. That’s why I didn’t create a reserve before we ran from Ostwick. I thought everything would be fine. Maybe I’d have a week or two of withdrawal symptoms, but I’d bounce back from it.” Her mother laughed bitterly at that. “Nolin...your father was helping me before he died. Several mages were researching and experimenting. He thought we were so close to figuring it out.” She sighed and reached out to Brianne, who curled up at her mother’s side._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They sat like that for a while, both engrossed in memories of the man they’d lost. Eventually, Annika kissed the top of her daughter’s head and broke the silence. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Brianne didn’t say anything, but nodded her head against her mother’s shoulder to acknowledge her apology._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I let you down,” Annika murmured._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_You let her down as well, didn’t you Brianne? You should have known. Should have seen. Everything would have been different if you’d been better. Wiser. Stronger._

__________Brianne barely kept herself from growling at the demonic voice needling away at her and bringing to light some of her greatest regrets._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I let the Coterie capitalize on my dependence. Tabs...Tabitha, the leader of the group I joined, kept supplying me with lyrium, but the shipments got smaller and smaller, and the prices got higher and higher. I couldn’t...I couldn’t go without it. Now’s not the time to experiment, to put my life at risk. If something happened to me…” She didn’t finish the thought, but merely ran her fingers through Brianne’s hair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Okay,” Brianne said with confidence as she sat up straight. “It’s okay. I can fix it. If Papa could, so can I.” She looked up into her mother’s eyes and saw the instant denial. Her mother didn’t say anything, though. She hugged Brianne close for another moment before allowing her daughter to help her up off of the ground._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They exited the empty warehouse when they heard the normal sounds of dockworkers beginning their daily routine of loading and unloading the ships in the harbor. Even though she had stayed up all night, Brianne found that she wasn’t tired. There was the soft hum of electricity under her skin as her and her mother figured out how to pass the day away while they waited to meet up with Ulric again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They had to avoid the Market District for fear of running into Iona. The merchants would also take note of Brianne finally being accompanied by her mother, and the last thing they needed was to make an impression on anyone. The pair finally decided on following the traffic of tourists through Cumberland. In the six months that they’d been living in the city, they hadn’t had time to see any of the historic landmarks or partake in any of the tourist-activities that natives constantly made fun of._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Like a roaming herd of cattle, the large group they surreptitiously joined was first ushered past the College of Magi. The Sun Dome shone its blinding light into Brianne’s eyes as she listened to the tour guide speak of the pilgrimage that all First Enchanters across Thedas would make for the annual conclave that was held in the very building in front of them. The man made sure to direct everyone’s attention to the section of the college connected to the Red Auditorium that supposedly housed the Grand Enchanter’s personal suite._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Next, the group wove its way alongside the dwarven trade enclave’s towering stone walls in order to pass through the section of the city that housed the wealthier Nevarran family homes. The tour guide stopped them outside of several manors and estates, soapboxing on the glories of this Noble House or that Noble house that had built Cumberland into the city that they were all appreciating today. Most of the palatial buildings belonged to either a Pentaghast or a Forsythia, and were so overwhelmingly elaborate that Brianne could hardly imagine any single family needing so much space. The only manor she had set foot in was the Trevelyan’s, and while it had been equally spacious, it had still looked and felt like a well-loved and lived-in home._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The final destination was the Tournament Grounds, which was where Brianne’s mother had agreed to meet Ulric in the early evening. Annika and her daughter broke away from the crowd milling through the empty arenas. There was no Tourney happening at the moment, so people were allowed out onto the jousting tracks and combat rings to walk in the footsteps of the likes of Michel de Chevin, Jean-Gaspard de Lydes, and Jean-Marc Stroud._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne had never been to the Grand Tourney when it had visited Ostwick. Her parents had asked if she wanted to go, but she had no desire to watch men and women attacking each other for glory. Real heroes had kind eyes and soft words. Their arms encircling you would chase off fear and despair, and their steady hands would swing you around until there was nothing left but smiles and the the glittering promise of a better tomorrow._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Your mother wasn’t a hero. She was a coward. Your father, too._

____________Brianne swung around, ready to throw a punch at the demon hovering behind her, but there was no one there. Her small hand slipped from her mother’s larger one, and Brianne became instantly lost in the throng of the crowd._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Mouse, you do not want to play this game with me, _she said mentally, making sure to project outward into the Fade.__

______________There was no response from her old friend, so she waited in that spot for a moment to see if her mother would turn around and force her way through the mass of tourists. Annika didn’t, so Brianne began to carefully make her way diagonally through the crowd, moving forward as well as to the left in order to reach the space left empty along the perimeter of the Tournament Grounds. She would wait there for her mother to find her. They still had plenty of time before they were to meet up with Ulric._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne cleared the congested pathway and leaned against the stone wall, positioning herself so that she was in the shade of a tree. It was winter, but the sun still shone brightly even as the bitter wind chilled her hands and ears. Brianne closed her eyes, savoring the crisp, sea air on her skin. She didn’t know when she would be able to appreciate it again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________As she stood there with her eyes closed, simply living in the moment, Brianne felt a strange pressure in her chest. It was lodged deep in her ribcage, near her heart. Brianne placed a hand on her chest and laughed at herself when she didn’t feel a heartbeat. This was a dream. This was the Fade. Her physical body wasn’t here, just her spiritual one._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The pressure built by a fraction and Brianne felt an insistent tug. She took a step towards the exit of the Tournament Grounds and felt the pressure lessen. When she didn’t keep moving in that direction, the force seemed to yank at her again until she took another step forward. Closing her eyes, Brianne focused her mind’s eye inward to try and figure out what was happening to her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She focused on the feeling in her chest. It was as though her lungs were expanding, collecting air as they normally did, but there wasn’t enough space for that in her chest cavity. Looking inside, she saw all the things that were normally there, but there was also...a glow? There was something else there. Not a thing exactly, but a…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She didn’t have the right words to describe what she was seeing, only that there was a softness hidden there, next to her heart. It was bright and golden, and it was trying to push its way outward._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Applying a meditative focus technique Brianne had learned from her mother, she breathed in deeply and purposefully relaxed her feet and legs, arms and hands, jaw and face. She breathed in once more and...opened. There was a moment of sharp, slicing pain, and then all of a sudden everything became clear._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Even with her eyes closed she was able to see, in perfect clarity, the long line of energy that began at Brianne and ended somewhere far off in the distance. The thread pulsed with an inaudible lub-dub pattern, and a particularly strong one seemed to drag Brianne forward another step. Her soul, spirit, whatever semantics you adhered to: it was still connected to her body._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________It was trying to lead her back to it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Take that, you stinking rodent, _Brianne thought victoriously.__

________________She heard a voice call out her name, so she opened her eyes so see her mother approaching her. Annika slipped easily through the waves of tourists meandering around and reached out to her daughter. Brianne took her mother’s hand and let herself be led towards the food vendors. It was in the opposite direction she should be going, but now that Brianne knew the way out, she found she wanted to spend just a few more minutes with her mother._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Also, there was sticky bread to be had._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________They eventually found Ulric next to an urchin selling posies of wildflowers in the colors of the Pentaghast heraldry. Brianne held aloft her sticky bread in offering, but the young man declined. His refusal was softened by the bemused smile he directed at her as she sat down in the dirt and continued to eat her food. He was practically buzzing with contained energy, and Annika demanded that he tell them what was going on before he accidentally caused himself to pass out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Ulric informed them that his cousin had agreed to let the three of them onto his ship, _The Boreas _, but that there were conditions. All three of them had to earn their keep, which would be difficult if Annika needed to take time to recover from her injury. Brianne quietly fumed as she listened to her mother assure him that she was fine, and that he could assure his cousin that she would be able to pull her own weight right from the start.__

__________________“He also means for your girl to be workin’ too, Ana,” Ulric said with some trepidation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“And what, exactly, does he plan for an eight year old to do on a cargo ship?” her mother asked with steel lining the edges of her voice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I told him she could cook ‘n clean. That she knew a fair bit about sickness ‘n healin’. I didn’t tell him about the magic!” Ulric insisted with hands raised, as though he could actually protect himself from Annika’s wrath. “I swear. She won’t be doin’ anythin’ outside of what she was at the inn. I swear to the Maker.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Her mother deflated, and the grim set of her mouth softened. She looked over at Brianne, who smiled and nodded her acceptance and understanding of what the immediate future held for her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

They then found out why Ulric had been so excited: the ship was leaving tonight at low tide. That was apparently the best time to get out of Cumberland’s harbor. Low tide began just before sunset, which was steadily drawing nearer. Ulric gave them directions to _The Boreas _and promised to meet them at the edge of the pier where it was docked. He waved a goodbye and muscled his way into the teeming crowd of tourists finally done with their sight-seeing and heading towards the exits.__

____________________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Brianne and her mother spent another hour at the Tournament Grounds. It was their last day in Nevarra. They should enjoy what they had closeby while they still could. Brianne stuck with her mother instead of walking away from the memory, mostly because she knew that the way to the harbor was in the direction she was meant to take to get back to her body._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________With the walls of the Grounds towering behind her, Brianne followed her mother to the harbor. The connection between her body and soul grew brighter and stronger with each step she took. As the pair passed into the Docks District, Annika stopped to contemplate stealing into the Dragon’s Song in order to retrieve more of their things. They both decided against it under the premise that it was too risky. This close to dinner time, Iona, her husband, and all the patrons would be up and about travelling between the rooms and the common area. Brianne had grabbed their flight bags, as her mother called them, so they had all of their essentials. Everything else was just sentimental._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Brianne’s excitement grew as they neared the pier where _The Boreas _was docked. The entire way through the docks Brianne had been passively following her thread. It seemed she was meant to make it to the boat that would take her and her mother away from Nevarra forever. That is what the spirit named Cole must have meant. That is why he had wanted her to finish this memory. If she had never discovered the bond between her body and soul, she would still have made it out of the Fade anyway if she had just kept following the memory’s natural course.__

Brianne finally saw _The Boreas _off in the distance right as she felt a shift in the Fade. The crisp sea air turned dense, and the movements of all the people around her became sluggish. The memory still moved forward, but slowly, as though it took more energy and effort to keep it going.__

________________________There was electricity against her skin as she turned around to see Mouse approaching from the direction her and her mother had just come from. He seemed calm. He walked at a leisurely pace, as though he had all the time in the world to catch her. To keep her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________To force her to lose herself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________She turned back towards the direction that her lifeline was pulling her, but the boat was gone. The harbor began to slowly melt away. Bit and pieces at the edge of the dream-memory floated off into opalescent fog that was slowly swirling towards the girl immobilized by panic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Alright, Enchanter. We’ve played this game long enough, don’t you think?” the demon called out, throwing her own words back at her. He was so much closer to her now than he had been a moment ago, and Brianne practically skidded away from him on the wooden planks of the pier._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“I am not playing at anything. I am going home.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“And I will let you,” he demurred with hands raised in mock surrender. “I was only ever going to help you get back to your friends, Brianne. Why do you doubt that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“Demons lie,” she spat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Mouse heaved a put-upon sigh. “In fact, my dear, they do not. Unless they are Deceit and Malice, spirits do not lie. It is not in our nature. What resonates through a mortal’s soul more profoundly than the truth? In all my existence I’ve found nothing else like it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________That gave Brianne pause. Mouse had been occupying her thoughts as she relived her childhood memory, and she hadn’t been able to come up with a single instance of him outright lying to her. Then again, was dancing around the truth considered lying? Was a lie of omission a true falsehood? These were questions she hadn’t had time to answer for herself, so how was she to decide now?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“What do you want?” she asked._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“I want to see your world, Enchanter. I have spent my existence wandering the Fade, seeking knowledge, and guiding mortals brave enough to heed me. You are one of them. You did not balk at conversing with spirits. You have wisdom beyond your years and a will of iron.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Mouse opened one hand palm up and a bracelet materialized from the Fade. It was a simple, thick wrist-band made of nevarrite. There were faint markings etched into it. At the distance she stood away from him, she could not make out what the markings were._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“You know your own strength, Enchanter. I gift you this token in exchange for allowing me entrance into the waking world. It will be a focal point for our connection, helping to keep our essences separate. I know you fear possession. If you are strong enough, that will never come to pass. You will gain all the benefits with none of the repercussions. Can you not envision it, Brianne? The good you could do? The lives you could save? The history you could make! Think of it...”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________For the space of a single heart beat, Brianne allowed herself to believe. In her mind she was suspended in time--the single heart beat stretching on and on as she pictured the ending of the Mage-Templar war, the birth of new magical Institutions, and a future where no more healers earned their bloody hands by dealing with the aftermath of the follies and fears of those in power. All of it was her doing, and she reveled in the single moment that she allowed herself to live in such a possibilities._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________What a beautifully twisted truth it was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Brianne smiled warily at the creature of the Fade before her. “You are right. I know my own strength, and I know that I would more than likely lose myself in such power. I thank you for honoring me with your offer, but I cannot accept it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________The spirit narrowed his eyes, and Brianne could taste the electric charge of a storm in the air. “Do not take the coward’s path, Enchanter. Do not make the coward’s choice. I thought you had learned from your parents’ mistakes by now.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“You will not speak of them,” she ordered as she turned away from Mouse. Even with _The Boreas _gone, Brianne could sense that as long as she walked in the general direction where the ship had been docket, she would make it out of this part of the Fade and hopefully into the waking world.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, MORTAL, TO DICTATE WHAT I WILL AND WILL NOT DO? _came a booming voice from all around her. What little ground was left shook, and the storm she had scented in the air came crashing down on her. She tilted sideways and rolled out of the way of a lightning strike. Scrambling onto her hands and knees, Brianne saw the once meek and unassuming man transformed into a grotesque creature. It stood taller than even the Qunari she had met in Haven. It held lightning in its hands, and its slitted eyes seemed to seep darkness straight from the Void.__

____________________________She slipped on the rain pouring down from the cloudless Fade-sky, but kept moving towards her exit. The monster issued a deep, rumbling sound that curdled her stomach. She realized it was its form of laughter right as something sharp and hot caught around her waist, sending waves of radiating pain to the rest of her body and lifting her off of her feet._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________She flew through the air and collided with something invisible. Her upper back and right shoulder blade screamed as she tumbled down to land on her side. She barely rolled out of the way of another lightning strike, and recovered enough breath to shout, “Why are you doing this to me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Another long, inhuman laugh caused her skin to crawl. _So prideful, my dear. So lovely. That is what drew me from the beginning. Everything has always been about you, even when you try to help others. The truth, Enchanter, is that you are nothing. No one. A sad excuse of a mage and a disgrace of a daughter. None of it has ever been about you._

______________________________“Why?” she shouted again, inching her way towards freedom, hoping to keep the demon occupied long enough for escape to be possible. “If I’m so worthless, why waste your time with me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Oh, you’re not worthless. Far from it. You seem to be in the middle of the most intriguing things: the stirrings of the Mage-Templar dissention; the fall of the Circle towers; the schism in the Circle of Magi; the conscription of Corypheus forces; and now the Inquisition. My dear Enchanter, how you have gotten around in your miniscule lifetime. It’s impressive._

________________________________The demon began approaching her slowly. It didn’t look as though it would strike again, but with every step forward Brianne became less certain of her escape._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_But if I am confessing my motives to you, I cannot omit what made you the most appealing candidate for my friendship and patronage: your ties to The Outlier._

__________________________________“The what?” she called out while shielding her eyes from from the rain battering down on her face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_The Outlier. The Inconsistency. The only mortal to have ever escaped me. Do you understand, Enchanter? I am older than the Fade itself. I burned in the hearts of the Magisters as they sacked the Golden City. I stood beside Andraste as she sang her pleas to the Heavens. I have fueled the will of those that have found fulfillment in their work for eons uncountable. No mortal has ever outwitted me, nor has any been strong enough to turn away from both Wisdom and Pride. Until that girl. Until that mage._

____________________________________“Who?” Brianne whispered, unable to help herself. There was no way it could have heard her over the roar of the wind, but it responded immediately as though it had._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_You know! Through you I can reach her. Through you she shall pay what is due to me. I will not suffer her to walk through the world where I cannot reach her. Even now her heart is blocked from me, keeping me from whispering in her ear. From forcing her hand. You were to be the instrument of my justice!_

______________________________________“Who!” she repeated, floored that any person alive could have slipped from this demon’s grasp._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Instead of answering, a scene formed in front of her. A young woman cautiously walked down a winding, rocky path. Her hair was tied back in a messy tail, and she tripped for a moment over the too-long Ferelden Circle robes she wore. Even in the darkness of the scene, Brianne could clearly see the worried smile that lit the woman’s face like a Satinalia Eve candle. 

______________________________________Gwen. Gwen at eighteen. Gwen in the Fade, most likely during her Harrowing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________Brianne could not stop herself from laughing. Of course this was about Ceridwen Amell. The woman had ended the Fifth Blight, rebuilt the Ferelden Gray Wardens, and was currently tackling the cure for Blight sickness. Of-fucking-course she had escaped this demon. Of-fucking-course she was immune to the reach of Pride and hubris._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_YOU LAUGH! _the demon bellowed. It lashed out with the lightning in both its hands, but Brianne was done with it all. She Fade-stepped away, but instead of of travelling a few feet, she found herself propelled almost to the edge of the memory-turned-battlefield.__

________________________________________Pride screamed it’s fury at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was almost free. Brianne sprinted in the direction her lifeline was pulling her. Her calves burned with exertion, her arms pumped furiously at her sides, and her breath came in gasping lung fulls. She serpentined her way through two lightning strikes and felt the ground quake under her feet. She was almost there. Almost there. Almost…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________There was the feeling of falling as she careened over the edge of the dream, then nothing but darkness._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Brianne’s throat burns with the force of her inhale. Her body is lying down on a cot, but she can still feel the forward momentum of her spirit racing through the Fade, her legs pumping and straining with exertion, her heart racing with the knowledge that she was about to die…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________She lurches up off of the cot, unable to open her eyes as they’re practically crusted shut with sleep. She startles when she feels two hands grabbing her shoulders, and without conscious thought, she lets off a Mind Blast. Brianne hears an undignified squawk and a chorus of crashing and shattering. Wrenching her eyelids open, she tumbles off of the cot to land in an awkward crouch. She throws up a barrier and primes a Blizzard as she jerks her gaze around the darkened room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Dorian is who was thrown away from her. He drops a Dispel on Brianne as he untangles himself from the blanket he got wrapped up in as he flew ass over end over the only other cot in the room. That is what must have collided with the basket containing potions and other apothecary equipment. The sharp smell of elfroot and embrium permeates the space. It makes her even dizzier, and she stumbles backwards into the solid wall of another person._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________With both her mental and physical nerves still raw, Brianne can’t seem to break free of the fight response she’s fallen into. The person blocks the elbow she throws behind her and side-steps the knee she forcefully raises as she pivots towards them. Her right fist is caught in a strangely intimate grip and forced above her head. She has to step forward or risk losing her balance, which is when she realizes that the person she’s grappling with is Cullen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________She doesn’t know what he sees in her eyes, but his expression turns to one of understanding, and a comforting shushing issues forth. He lowers her arm so that it’s in between them. The adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream leaves her shaking, and Cullen wraps his other arm around her back and brings her forward. He’s whispering that she’s alright, that everything is okay, and that there’s nothing to be afraid of._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Brianne isn’t sure how long she stands in his arms. It’s all she can do to focus on the sound of his voice, the firm line of his arm along the ridge of her shoulders, and the soothing circles that his gloved thumb is rubbing into pulse point of the hand trapped between their chests._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________She hears Dorian come up to them, and flinches slightly when he places his hands on her shoulders for the second time. Cullen sees it, and his gaze is full of pity as he looks down on Brianne. She flushes hot with equal parts shame and embarrassment, and abruptly steps away from him with a strained, “Thank you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Strained both emotionally and physically, it seems. Her voice sounds like she’s been gargling gravel, and Cullen winces in sympathy. He steps backwards as well with a stuttered, “Yes. I mean, of course. You’re welcome. Not that you...I mean…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Dorian snorts right next to her ear and turns her away from the Commander. “Are you alright, _amicus _?”__

__________________________________________“Yes,” she nods emphatically, but that causes another wave of dizziness, and Dorian helps her back to the cot to sit down. “I’m fine. Or I will be. What of Cal?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“What of what?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“Trevelyan,” Cullen interjects. “She means The Herald.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“Yes. Is he here yet?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________Brianne’s question is met with a heavy silence. Cullen’s face shutters closed and Dorian drops his gaze to his once perfectly manicured hands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“So he hasn’t found us yet,” she answers herself. She pushes up off the cot again and takes several wobbly steps towards what she thought was a wall, but can now see is a tent flap._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“Brianne, no.” Dorian catches her before she can completely pass him. “He didn’t make it out of Haven.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“Yes,” she responds. “He must still be there. Or on his way. How far have we traveled? How long was I out?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Almost two full days,” Cullen says overtop Dorian’s insistence that, “The Herald isn’t on his way anywhere. He’s gone, _amicus _.”__

____________________________________________“No, he’s not. I promised I’d send help. We have to go back. Cullen, you have to send men. He’s on his way here. We have to help. I promised.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________The Commander’s eyes widen, whether at her demands or at her calling him by his given name, Brianne isn’t certain. She knows she’s beginning to sound frantic, and she isn’t making much sense. She takes a deep breath right as Dorian asks her to explain what she’s going on about._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“We don’t have time. Please, can you just believe me, and when The Herald is safe and sound I will explain it better? While I was unconscious I was dreaming. I saw him in the Fade. I am certain it was him. He told me what happened at Haven, what he did. I showed him that he was dreaming and told him to wake up. I told him to head northwest towards the caravan. I promised that if I woke up first I’d send help. He’s not here, so he’s either still unconscious underneath a snowbank, dead underneath a snowbank, or trudging through more snowbanks to get to us. Please, we need to go back for him. Now.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________There’s a beat of silence in which Dorian looks skeptical and Cullen looks overwhelmed. The Commander recovers first and repeats, “You talked to him while you both were unconscious? While you were dreaming?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“Are you a somniari?” Dorian asks, excitement and trepidation coloring his voice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Briane heaves a sigh of frustration. “No? Maybe? I don’t know. I didn’t think so, but lately these kinds of things keep happening to me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Cullen clears his throat and places one of his hands on the back of his neck. “Ah, so this has happened to you before? Meeting others who are dreaming, I mean. While you’re dreaming. And…talking with them?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Brianne’s mind flashes to a golden lion mask and a scared templar with disused laughter, and her stomach lurches sideways. “What?” she asks hollowly while her mind races over possibilities never before considered._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“No. You’re right. There’s no time now. We will speak of it later. I will...please rest, Enchanter. I will see to The Herald.” As Cullen passes by her, he reaches out and catches a hand hanging limply at her side. He squeezes it once and then is gone, the rustling tent flap letting in a gust of icy wind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“So...” Dorian waits a few seconds after Cullen has left, allowing Brianne to stare at the tent entrance as though it holds the secrets of the Fade itself. She turns to see her friend fighting a grin while trying to look imperious. “You never said you had such dashing friends waiting for you in this frozen wasteland.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“Are you complaining?” she teases as she retreats back to the cot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“Me? Complain? When have I ever? Oh, don’t answer that you spoilsport.” He kneels on the ground in front of her and starts to work one of her boots off._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“What are you doing?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“I’m being helpful. It’s one of my more endearing qualities, as demeaning as it can be sometimes. You, my lovely Marcher rose, are filthy. You’ve been in the same clothes for over a week without a bath, and I’m fairly certain one of the spymaster’s raven’s has taken to roost in your hair. As much as it pains me to be near such a disgusting southern heathen, I feel it is my duty as your friend to save you from yourself. Come, help me with these, if you can. I fear they may have merged with your feet.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________Brianne is torn between humiliation and humor, but allows herself several giggles as they both unwrap her body from the tattered and pungent clothing. As Dorian heats a nearby pail of partially frozen water, they speak of the things she’s missed while she was asleep, and Brianne starts at the beginning of her story with the demon she calls Mouse._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest apologies for the delayed update. I may or may not be a teacher in the American public school system, and my life may or may not be a cluster fuck right now. It's the time of year I like to call Shakespeare Season, which means I'm coming home every day with little to no energy (I'm basically teaching a foreign language to a group of screaming babies that don't really want to learn a foreign language). Even my exemplary students have senioritis, and the icing on the sticky bread is that my husband and I are now frantically looking for another place to live. 
> 
> Don't you hate it when something that brings you so much joy is the last thing you have time for? I'll try to keep my forward momentum, but I'm sorry if updates become less frequent. 
> 
> Next up: A day in the life on the run (with the Inquisition!) Lots of fluff and Brianne getting to know the inner circle. And more Cullen feels. I kind of need them right now.


	25. Let My Cries Touch Their Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an expository chapter, really. Brianne has convos with all members of the inner circle, and we get some Cullen-centered angst and feels. (Alternatively: *In sing-song voice* Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so irritated with AO3 right now. This is the longest chapter I've written to date, and it is apparently too long for the website to process as one chapter, even though it's shorter than 500,000 words. It's not that long! The only thing I can think of is that all the special HTML text code that allows for italics and paragraphs are screwing around with the word count. So I'm having to post this chapter as two separate ones, which fucks with my continuity and chapter scheme. Grrr. So just keep in mind that this chapter ends in a place that I didn't really mean for it to end.

Brianne wakes to the soft sound of Dorian snoring over the background noises of crunching snow and murmured conversations. A raven caws loudly, and she smiles up at the ceiling of the tent.

She had been terrified to go to sleep last night. She had tried to talk Dorian out of his assertion that she needed more rest. She had been asleep for almost two Void-taken days. Staying awake for one night would help even out her body’s sleep pattern. Dorian wouldn’t listen to her though, and had threatened to tell the Commander that she was refusing to take care of herself. Brianne had flushed hot in anger and embarrassment. She was mostly angry at herself for allowing Dorian to have that kind of power over her. She had demanded to know why he thought that particular threat would work, but he just smiled smugly at her as she changed into more comfortable sleep clothes. 

Dorian must have known what her fear was, as he had vanished and returned with Solas a few moments later. The elven mage had asked if Brianne would mind if he laid a few dreamer-specific wards on her while she slept. Having just discovered her abilities, on top of escaping the clutches of an Ancient Spirit, he thought she might like some extra protection until she had learned the best ways to defend herself. She had held her emotions in check while Solas had cast his wards, but the second he was gone from the tent she burst into tears. Dorian had held her for hours until she finally calmed down enough for sleep to claim her.

Brianne’s thoughts are disrupted by a loud burst of laughter from a group walking past her small tent. Dorian twitches heavily once and she sees him blink blearily at her. She whispers _good morning _and he scowls fiercely at her before huffing and rolling away. She stifles a giggle and gets up, throwing on the new clothes she was given yesterday before brushing her hair out. The fabric is rough-spun and slightly itchy, and the skirt is comically long. The bodice fits her nicely though, even if the neckline is a bit deeper than she’s used to wearing. She adjusts it so that the edge of the scar near the left side of her clavicle is as hidden as it can be.__

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The whole outfit is strange to Brianne. She hasn’t worn a proper dress since she was a child. Her life as an apostate had her dressed in leggings and tunics. Once she was in the Circle, she was required to wear the appropriate robes that befit her station. Even after the Circles were disbanded, Brianne hadn’t gotten herself a new wardrobe. She had no money, and while she was proficient at mending clothing, she did not have the skills to make her own from scratch. She had been comfortable, anyways, in the attire she had always worn. It was comforting on both an emotional and psychological level to be able to look at someone and know who they were, what their job was, and where they fell in the tentative hierarchy of the disbanded Circles. 

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Brianne gathers the bottom of the lambswool skirt and knots it together by her left ankle. It looks awful and will inhibit how she walks, but she’d rather have to shorten her gait and stay upright than to trip over the abundance of material and crack her head open on a rock. 

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Maker, she can absolutely see something like that happening to her in front of Cullen. It would just be her luck. 

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_Knock it off, Lochland, _she thinks to herself as she laces up her boots. You need to get over this childhood infatuation. Nothing good will come of it.__

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Infatuation is all that it is. All that it can be. She first met Cullen when she was sixteen. He had joined the ranks of Kinloch’s templars straight from his Knighthood ceremony. He was handsome and kind, patient and fair, and so very reserved. No one had befriended him the way that Gwen had, even after she had left for the Wardens. He had kept all of the mages at arms length, and the forbidden fruit was always the most tempting and attractive kind. 

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He had reminded Brianne of the templars in Ostwick--the templars of her childhood. If she analyzed it on an even deeper level, she had to admit that he reminded her of her mother, minus the adorable blushing and stuttering. 

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_And that doesn’t make it creepy at all. _She grimaces against the mental rebuke as well as the bright sunlight assaulting her eyes as she slips out of her tent.__

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She sees a steady stream of people moving towards a large, open area in the distance and wonders if that is where she can get breakfast. Brianne hears a shout of _Enchanter! _and turns to find Varric Tethras making his way towards her.__

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Varric Tethras: author of The Dasher’s Men, Tale of The Champion, and Hard in Hightown. Varric Tethras: high-ranking member of The Merchant’s Guild. Varric Tethras: rogue extraordinaire and close friend of The Champion of Kirkwall. 

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Brianne remembers meeting him days ago. She remembers fighting their way through the burning remains of Haven. She remembers how embarrassed she was by her lack of wit and charm. Here is the chance to redeem herself. 

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“Hey there sleeping beauty. Long time no see,” he greets when he’s level with her, and every intelligent thought flies out of her head. Varric Tethras just called her beautiful. 

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_No he didn’t, you moron. Not like that! ___

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The moment passes with an awkward pause while she scrambles to collect her thoughts. Varric’s open expression seems to close slightly, but his smile remains.

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Brianne huffs out a self-deprecating groan that mixes with a sigh of frustration. “I’m sorry, Messere. My mind still seems to be full of sleep. It’s good to see you’re well,” she manages. 

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He brightens up again starts walking in the direction everyone else is. Brianne follows after him. “That’s alright, Enchanter. Completely understandable. I heard you’ve had a rough time of things. Wanted to thank you for that stunt you pulled in the Chantry. I didn’t see most of it, but I sure as shit felt it.” 

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Brianne knows he’s trying to be nice, but her happy mood dissipates at his reminder of what happened. “You’re welcome, Messere,” she intones, even though she doesn’t feel like accepting the praise. 

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“Okay--first off, you can stop calling me that. I know I’m a Marcher, but just Varric will do. I’m a dwarf, so I’m sure you can understand how much we don’t like heights. And second, I didn’t mean to rain on your parade. Didn’t peg you as someone that wouldn’t take compliments well. Good to know for the future, I guess.” 

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Brianne blinks owlishly at him for a moment, trying to decipher what he meant by the first part of his impassioned speech. She finally settles on asking, “What do heights have to do with anything?” 

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Varric flashes her a sly grin. “People that don’t like heights don’t particularly enjoy being placed on pedestals.” 

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That elicits a choked noise from Brianne as she wrinkles her nose at his joke. Varric chuckles, basking in his own sense of humor. It breaks the tension that had formed, and Brianne finds herself telling him, “I’m normally vain enough to enjoy a compliment or two, but it doesn’t feel right after what happened.” 

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“Yeah. The Inquisition lost too many good people. But you know, they would have lost a lot more if you hadn’t have stepped in with that healing mojo of yours.” 

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“Healing mojo,” she repeats, and chuckles along with him as they walk. They join the back of a long line leading up to an open area where three fire pits are lined up next to each other. Brianne can’t smell what’s being cooked, but after two whole days of not eating, she’s willing to stomach almost anything. Dorian had accused her of eating an entire side of druffalo by herself last night, which was impossible. They might have eaten a whole side between the two of them, but she certainly didn’t do it herself. Even so, she’s still ravenous this morning.

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“But seriously, that light show you put on was pretty impressive. Where’d you learn to do something like that?” 

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“You’ve never seen a Resurgence before?" 

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_________“Haven’t had many opportunities to hang around any Knight-Enchanters, save our Iron Lady. And we haven’t exactly reached the hanging-out together phase yet, if you know what I mean.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________“Yes. Madame de Fer is quite intimidating.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________Varric snorts and grins in acknowledgement. “She’s had a lot to say about you. Spent a lot of time interrogating Sparkler and Curly about where you might have learned that spell. I mean, it makes sense to me that a healder’d know a healing spell, but I guess that’s not how things are done?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________His expression is open and inviting, as if he’s helping her out by letting her in on gossip about herself. She sees it for what it really is, though. He’s snooping. Trying to get information out of her. Brianne doesn’t know if he’s working alongside Sister Leliana, or if he has his own agenda._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_Or he could just be a friendly, curious person that likes getting to know people, you paranoid ninny. _She should be flattered that Varric Tethras is bothering to spend his time waiting in the mess line with her at all.__

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___________“Resurgence requires that a mage has a large pool of magic reserves. The spell itself takes several seconds to prime, and a few more to cast. Mages are vulnerable during that time period, so they need to be able to have a barrier going at the same time. If the mage is in the field, they typically have barriers on themselves and multiple allies while trying to cast a long, complicated, and magically dense spell. Hence why Knight-Enchanters are usually the only mages that learn it. It’s not that others can’t, it just...not something that’s taught in basic Creation lessons.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“Huh. So where’d you pick it up?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________That puts Brianne on alert. Varric should be picking up on her avoidance of answering directly, unless he isn’t as observant as she thought he was, which can’t be right. He must be fishing for information for a specific reason. She really doesn’t want to admit that she learned the spell from a spirit, especially since it was the same spirit she had been trapped in the Fade with less than a day ago._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast comes to her rescue, albeit unintentionally. Brianne watches as Varric’s eyes widen slightly. He quickly shuffles to the side so that Brianne is standing directly in front of him as he faces her. Looking over her shoulder, she spots the Seeker in line a ways behind them. The woman stands perfectly still as she waits. Everyone else around her sways as they talk. People shift their weight from foot to foot or gesture with their hands as they speak to those they’re waiting with. The Seeker doesn’t move a muscle until it’s time for her to take a few steps forward as the line moves up. It’s enthralling to watch how still a person can be amidst so much surrounding movement._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________The woman sees Brianne watching her and dips her head in greeting. Brianne takes the opening and waves the Seeker forward. Cassandra nods her head back and forth, as though to decline Brianne’s request, but the soldiers in between them finally realize who they are standing in front of. The men and women hastily step out of line and usher the Seeker forward, insistent that she not have to wait any longer than necessary for her food._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________Instead of basking in the attention and special privilege, Cassandra looks like she’s fit to punch someone. Brianne thinks it might be her, and isn’t as curious anymore as to why Varric is trying to stay out of the Seeker’s line of sight._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________Surprisingly, Varric greets the disgruntled woman just as cheerfully as he did Brianne, and Brianne smiles weakly at the Nevarran royal. “Did you need something, Enchanter Lochland?” Cassandra asks her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“No, Lady Seeker. I just wanted to say that I am glad you are well, and to offer my services in any capacity they are needed.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“You may call me Cassandra, Enchanter. The title Lady Seeker is reserved for the commander of the Seekers of Truth, a position currently held by Lord Seeker Lucius.” Brianne nods her understanding and murmurs an apology. “I am glad to see you up and about as well. You had many people worried.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“Mainly Curly and Sparkler,” Varric notes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“You said those names earlier. Who are they?” Brianne asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“Varric has a habit of creating ridiculous nicknames for people. He calls the Commander of the Inquisition ‘Curly,’ and has taken to calling your companion from Tevinter ‘Sparkler.’ I am sure he will invent one for you as well, even if you wish he wouldn’t,” Cassandra explains sourly, but her tone is in direct contrast with the slight upturn of the corner of her mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“Hey now! I never made up a name for Hawke. I can refrain if I really want to.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“You are one of the Champion’s dearest friends and confidants, and yet you only call him Hawke. Would you appreciate it, Varric, if you were only known as Tethras? It is as bad as any name you could invent.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________They are almost to the front of the line now, and Brianne is baffled by what she’s witnessing. There’s a flurry of activity surrounding each firepit. A team of civilians mans their respective fires and the shallow pans nestled on top of them. They form a short line leading up to a single person that’s handing out…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“Pancakes?” Brianne blurts out, interrupting Cassandra and Varric’s inane argument. She hears the Seeker asking her to repeat herself while watching the dwarf’s eyebrows reach towards his forehead._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“Have you never had camp bread before?” Varric asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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___________“What is a pan-cake?” Cassandra adds, causing Varric to splutter and turn his attention back to the Nevarran._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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“Andraste’s ass, Seeker! I had no idea you were so deprived. You’ve _never _eaten a pancake before?"__

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_____________The pair picks up their bickering as they receive their camp bread. It doesn’t smell like any bread Brianne’s ever eaten before. She nibbles on a corner and hums in appreciation. It’s very flat, more chewy than fluffy, and it tastes delicious. Brianne follows after her two companions as they exit the line and head back in the direction that Varric and Brianne came from._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________The dwarf and Seeker end their discussion of Nevarran breakfast traditions when Cassandra stops abruptly and turns to walk down a different line of tents. The woman wishes Varric a good day, but pauses when she looks at Brianne. Cassandra opens her mouth as though to say something, then scowls down at the snow. Brianne moves to follow Varric, but stops when the Seeker calls out for her to wait a moment. She turns back to the Nevarran royal who is still glaring at the ground as though it personally insulted the Divine. The old Divine. Brianne winces to herself as she waits for the woman to collect her thoughts._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________“Enchanter, you seem to be connected to many people,” Cassandra finally says. Brianne looks at the woman quizzically, certain she will explain the not-question she just asked. “What I mean is...you are friends with the Herald?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________“I suppose you could say that. We were friends as children, and met again years later.” Brianne isn’t certain where this line of questioning is heading, and she is momentarily overcome with a desperate need to answer everything the Seeker asks her correctly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________“Your companion, Lord Pavus, is from a powerful Tevinter family. His father holds a seat on the Magisterium senate. Lady Vivienne speaks highly of you. She says that you met on several occasions in Val Royeaux. After listening to her speak, Josephine has vague recollections of seeing you around the Winter Palace as well.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________Cassandra pauses again and simply looks at her. The Seeker’s gaze is piercing, and Brianne fights against shrinking from it. She has withstood the scrutiny of two different Circles’ Senior Enchanters along with the Orlesian Court. She can handle the Right Hand of the Divine’s assessment of her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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Although, the Seeker’s words eerily mimic what Mouse had said to her in the Fade. _You seem to be in the middle of the most intriguing things...My dear Enchanter, how you have gotten around in your miniscule lifetime. It’s impressive._

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“And then there is the Commander. He tells me that he is acquainted with you as well, during his time as a Templar.” Brianne nods her head in agreement, even though it is another not-question that Cassandra seems to favor. “I do not know what you remember of him, but you need to understand that he is changed. Oh, I do not mean to sound so dramatic. He is the same man he has always been, but he has lived through many troubling things. He has gone out of his way to make certain changes, and they deserve to be respected. _He _deserves our utmost respect.”__

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_________________“Of course,” Brianne quickly assures her. “I had already realized that the Commander I met a few days ago is different from the Templar that used to guard me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“Yes. Cullen has worked hard to separate himself from the Order. He needs someone who is understanding of that. He needs someone who will be patient with him. Cullen has become a dear friend to me, and I need you to be aware. Do you understand what I am saying, Enchanter?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________It takes a beat of silence before Brianne is struck with the painful realization of what the woman is hinting at. Cassandra knows. She isn’t sure how the Seeker knows, but Brianne obviously hasn’t been vigilant enough in guarding her emotions. Dorian has been open in his teasing of Brianne’s infatuation with Cullen, and now a Seeker of Truth stands before her warning her away from a man who is oceans out of her league. Horror overcomes embarrassment when it occurs to Brianne what Cassandra probably meant by ‘dear friend.’ May the Maker strike her down where she stands! Of course Cassandra and Cullen are involved. They are perfect for each other._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“Oh! Lady Cassandra, I would never...I mean, I’m so sorry to have...I didn’t think…I will stop immediately. I meant no offense, and I’m so sorry to have given you the impression that I had designs upon the Commander. You have nothing to fear from me, I assure you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________The Seeker’s brows furrows. “No, that is not...ugh.” She throws her hands up at her sides. “That is the opposite of what I meant.” She glares down at the snow again and mumbles something about books._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“What?” Brianne asks, but the woman just shakes her head in defeat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“Cullen and I are not romantically involved. He is a friend. A friend who is in need. Promise me that you will be kind and patient with him.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“I...yes, I promise.” At this point, Brianne would promise close to anything if only the ground would swallow her whole._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________The Seeker nods and abruptly turns away. She’s gone after a handful of quick strides, leaving Brianne standing alone in between two tents. Varric is gone, having wandered off long ago, something that Brianne is grateful for._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________She makes to head back to her tent and a sleepy Dorian, but changes her mind. She pivots and follows the path that Cassandra took in hopes that it will lead her to Cal’s tent. She can see it off in the distance. It’s the largest, and the only one with an Inquisition flag atop it. Cullen and Cassandra had carried Cal into camp a few hours after Brianne had woken up yesterday. She had been barred from seeing him, as though someone knew that she would be unable to keep herself from trying to assist in healing him, and she was under strict orders not to use any magic for a few days. Now was as good a time as any to see if she could visit with her childhood friend (and check on how he was doing)._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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The opening of the Herald’s tent comes into view just as Brianne crosses paths with Solas. The elf smiles solemnly at her as he passes, and she murmurs a quiet _Andaran atish’an _to him.__

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___________________Solas pauses and Brianne’s heart leaps into her throat. She braces herself for his rebuke for using the Elvhen language when she obviously isn’t one of The People._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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But it doesn’t come. He merely turns an arched brow towards her and returns the greeting. “It seems that you are full of surprises, _d’alen. _”__

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_____________________She smiles and thanks him for the wards he set for her the previous night. Her sleep had been dreamless and refreshing. “Are you a dreamer as well?” she inquires._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________________“Yes, and I understand how trying it can be to keep oneself safe while in the Fade. My offer still stands, if you would be willing to meet with me there.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________________“You would train me in the Fade?” she exclaims. No one has ever come to her in a dream to teach her either practical or theoretical magic. She has learned from spirits that way, but never a human being. Or elf._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________________“What better place?” he responds coolly. “That is where you will use your skills, so why not begin there. Do you have experience seeking people out?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________________“No. I’ve always stumbled upon someone else’s dream. Or someone into mine. How would I go about finding you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_____________________Solas makes a humming noise in the back of his throat as he thinks. “It is difficult to describe. I will begin by finding you in the Fade. We can practice from there. I will look for you in a few nights. I believe you need more rest before you are strong enough to accomplish the tasks I’d like to begin with.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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She readily agrees and says farewell. He leaves her with a quiet _Dareth shiral, _which she echoes back. It only takes her another minute to reach Caldwell’s tent. Her smile fades a bit when she spots the towering Qunari guarding the entrance to it.__

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“Sorry _saarebas, _the Boss isn’t taking any visitors right now.”__

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_________________________“How is he doing?” she asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Oh, you know, about the same as anyone suffering from frostbite, hypothermia, dehydration, fatigue, and broken bones,” The Iron Bull jokes. “Calm down, calm down,” he chides at the look on her face. “The Boss is fine. He’s resting though, and I’m under strict orders not to let anyone disturb him. You’ll have to come back later.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“I thought you answered only to the Herald?” Brianne needles. The Iron Bull makes her uneasy, but against her better judgement she finds herself wanting to sate her curiosity about the man, and consequently, the Qun._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Yeah, technically he’s the one that hired me and The Chargers, but he’s got me answering to the Spymaster as well. She needs him rested and ready for action. So seriously, shoo.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________Brianne wrinkles her nose at him shooing her away, and glances one more time at the closed tent flap. “Let him know I came by.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Sure thing,” he says with a wink. “I can appreciate someone playing the field.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“What?” she asks, taken aback._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Playing the field. It’s a turn of phrase. Means keeping your options open. Keeping things light and non-committal with more than one person.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“The Herald and I are not in a relationship!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Sorry, was this not that kind of visit? The Commander’s been avoiding you since you woke up, so I just assumed you were working your other option.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________Brianne is seconds away from verbally ripping into the Qunari, when she notices his eyes. He’s not sorry in the least, and his gaze is as passively calculating as Cassandra’s was openly. Just like Varric earlier, he’s trying to pull information from her. She isn’t sure whether to take it as an insult or compliment that everyone is so wary._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________She curbs her sharp words and settles for asking,“How do you know he’s avoiding me? I’ve only been up since yesterday afternoon.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________The leader of The Chargers snorts in amusement. “The entire time you were in dreamland he was stuck to your side like icing on a sweetroll. He even slept sitting upright in the cart they were pulling you in. All his men came to him, and he worked around you. I asked around and heard you two had history, so I figured he was just safeguarding his girl, but ever since he brought the Herald back, he hasn’t been to see you once.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________Brianne places her hands on her hips. “And how do you know that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________The Qunari grins at her. “I’m a tall guy. I see a lot of things.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________Brianne has spent enough time at Court to recognize the double-speak, and inclines her head in a non-verbal acknowledgement of his message._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“I also heard that you and the Boss have history too. Stuff from childhood and all that Templar-Chantry shit. It ain’t too great of a leap to think you’d rekindle something there from the past. Aw, don’t be like that!” he calls after her as she turns and walks away. Brianne waves over her shoulder with a polite smile, and the shit-eating grin the Qunari’s wearing only irritates her further._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________With nothing to do and no one willing to give her purpose outside of resting, Brianne heads back to her tent. Hopefully Dorian has woken up by now. She knows she can pass the time much easier in his presence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________She's intercepted by Madame de Fer just as Brianne is about to pull her tent flap back. The honorary Orlesian calls out her name in that unmistakable accent, and Brianne is forced to mentally scramble to recreate the facade she had perfected as Representative of The White Spire to the Imperial Court._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Good morning, First Enchanter.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“I suppose it is. This rugged mountain air can be a bit bracing, don’t you think? I trust you slept well in spite of it?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________That is a direct jab at Brianne’s extended stay in the Fade, which she was ready for. “I did. A mage named Solas placed protective wards on me, in order to keep my sleep dreamless. I am to begin lessons with him shortly, in order to better protect myself in the future. Your concern does you credit, Madame de Fer. I thank you for it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“Ah, Solas. A competent mage with atrocious taste in articles of clothing. Did you see his footwraps, darling? In the snow! It must take an excessive amount of magic to keep his toes from falling off. That’s energy that could be better spent. He won’t listen though, so you needn’t bother speaking to him on the subject. Stubborn apostate.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________Brianne nods in agreement even though she feels like coming to Solas’ defense. Who cares what he wears as long as he’s comfortable and protected? It seems to be important to the mage in front of her though, and a possible bonding moment in order to keep her on Brianne’s good side._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________Vivienne smiles approvingly before moving on. “Speaking of appearances, I would like you to follow me to my tent, dear. I have some things for you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________________“You have things for me?” Brianne repeats as she falls in step beside Madame de Fer. The woman smiles benevolently and continues to chat about several other of the Herald’s companions and their choices in attire._________________________

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	26. Let My Cries Touch Their Hearts con't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just an expository chapter, really. Brianne has convos with all members of the inner circle, and we get some Cullen-centered angst and feels. (Alternatively: *In sing-song voice* Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the rest of the chapter. Bon appetite!

Brianne has no idea how long she’s been inside the First Enchanter’s tent. It could be hours or days since she left Dorian asleep in his bedroll, and Brianne can’t bring herself to care. 

She feels as though she’s been reborn. She’s the warmest she’s been since leaving Redcliffe, and every muscle in her body is relaxed. She’s sitting cross-legged at the end of the First Enchanter’s cot as the woman brushes her damp hair out. Brianne’s clothed in a beautiful, thigh-length tunic and breeches ensemble made of Dales Loden wool lined in soft cotton. A small bundle of clothes in the same style sits by the entrance to the tent. A traveling cloak of dark, Great Bear hide is draped across the cot in front of her. She’s to collect the clothes and don the cloak when she finally leaves the comfort of the First Enchanter’s sanctuary, which may be never, if Brianne has any say in it.

The warm bath, the new clothes, the pampering, all of it is Vivienne’s gift to her. Supposedly, the mage had ordered a bath for herself, but decided to offer it to Brianne out of the goodness of her heart. The First Enchanter had spotted the bedraggled woman about to enter the tent that she has to share with that odious Tevinter Magister, and knew that Brianne deserved the bath more than she did. The expensive and aromatic soaps and oils were what the First Enchanter would have used on herself, so why not let Brianne indulge in them as well?

Vivenne also just happened to have extra clothes lying around, and they just happened to have been in a size suitable for Brianne. The Iron Lady insisted on donating several outfits to her. Brianne is a dear companion and childhood friend of the Herald of Andraste, after all. She needs to dress to fit her station, as well as to make the right impression on those who are watching her. Vivienne clammed up when Brianne directly asked her who those people are, exactly, and has yet to figure out how to pry the information out of the Iron Lady.

The First Enchanter is currently brushing out the waterfall of Brianne’s hair, which is quickly becoming an almost religious experience. Vivienne put something in her hair that caused the comb to run smoothly through it instead of catching on the snarls that tend to gather in the large waves. Brianne’s hoping that the First Enchanter would gift the miracle concoction to her as well, seeing as the woman has no need of if herself. 

“Your hair is so lovely, my dear. The _coiffeurs _of Orlais could spent hours delighting in it. Think of all the trends they could set with you as their model. When was the last time you cut it?”__

__Brinne makes an undignified noise of pleasure as Vivienne runs the comb through the hair at the crown of her head. “Mmm...I was a child living in...uh...traveling with my mother. She would cut my hair every other month to keep it short. Very short. It was easier to deal with that way, as we didn’t have much between the two of us. I started letting it grow out when I joined the Circle in Ferelden. It was a symbol for me, of the life I’d left behind, and the new one beginning. I trim the ends every month now, and try to keep it around my shoulder blades. It becomes unmanageable if it gets any longer.”_ _

__“An excellent feature to take care of. I have a few bottles of lotions and oils that I’ve grown tired of. You may have those as well. It wouldn’t do for you to neglect yourself, darling. Especially with all the attention you’ll be receiving. You’ve already caught the eye of our dear Commander while looking like a drowned and beaten nug. You’ll give the poor man a heart attack when he sees you looking your best.”_ _

__And there it is. Brianne can’t stop the giggle that escapes her._ _

__“Care to share with the rest of us, my dear?”_ _

__Brianne’s so relaxed that she sways dangerously backwards, bumping into the First Enchanter’s legs. “You are the third person today that has talked to me about the Commander of the Inquisition.”_ _

__“That is because we all have eyes and opinions. I doubt there is a single soul in this entire camp that didn’t notice how quickly that man swooped in to be your guard mabari when you fell ill and needed protection.”_ _

__Brianne lets slip another fit of giggles. “He should be careful. Swooping is bad.”_ _

__The joke completely eclipses Vivienne, and Brianne makes a mental note to write to Gwen about it whenever she’s able. She’s been meaning to find out how her friend is doing out west, but the letter will mainly be for the laugh she knows the Warden-Commander will have at her husband’s expense._ _

__“For being a farmer from rural Ferelden, the Commander has many redeeming qualities. I have seen enough to find a true gentlemen hidden under the brashness and lion fur. I knew you were completely safe in his care, even with that Magister lurking about. I don’t know what you see in him, my dear, but I will have to take your word on his intentions.”_ _

__“You’ll see. Give Dorian a chance.”_ _

__“I suppose I’ll have to, but back to Commander Cullen. The man overworks himself, which is a testament to his dedication to our cause. His actions have helped foster an excellent reputation for the Inquisition, but an overworked Commander will begin to make mistakes.” Vivienne finally stops running the comb through Brianne’s hair, and Brianne has to physically swallow the whine that tries to work its way out of her throat. Maker, she loves it when other people brush her hair, or do anything with it, really._ _

__“Brianne, are you listening?” she asks, tugging on her hair, and Void-take-it if that isn’t an entirely different kind of nice feeling that Brianne does not want to examine with the Iron Lady standing directly behind her._ _

__“Of course, Madame. An overworked Commander is a hindrance, not an asset.”_ _

__She feels Vivienne turn and walk to the other side of the tent. “I suggest you take him lunch.”_ _

__“Is it lunch time?”_ _

__“It’s a bit past the fashionable time to be eating in the afternoon, but I would wager that our Commander skipped breakfast in favor of doing other productive things. I think he would appreciate a visit from you, as well as the food. Let him see how well you’re recovering. It will lift his spirits.”_ _

__Brianne rises and stretches. Vivienne helps her gather all the different things she’s obligated to take from the woman, since she’s offering them. Brianne promises to find her later, as they never got to chat about the state of the Rebel mages. Brianne’s fairly certain Vivienne already knows, and isn’t looking forward to reliving some of the worst moments of her adult life with Madame de Fer as witness._ _

__Back in her tent, Brianne notes that Dorian is up and long gone. She drops her bundle of clothes and toiletries on top of her bedroll and exits again. She knows that even were she to try and hide the gifts, Dorian would be able to sense them nearby. She may as well leave them out in the open for him to peruse at his convenience (she’s certain that some of the oils and lotions will be missing when she comes back, but he deserves the pampering just as much as she does)._ _

__Brianne follows the path she took earlier to get to the mess area. The fire pits are still there, but the teams of cooks are gone. There’s no food in sight, only soldiers and civilians gathered around in groups, socializing._ _

__“Magey!”_ _

__Brianne looks up at the shout, as do the people around her. Her eyes land on a vaguely familiar elf dressed in what could only be called bright red scraps of clothing. She’s perched on a downed tree with her legs swinging from side to side, feet barely brushing the ground. Leaning against another tree next to her is a Warden. The sunlight glints off of the the griffon on his chestplate, creating a small rainbow in the snow on the ground in front of them._ _

__“Oi. Yeah, you. C’mere.” The elf waves her over._ _

__The Warden pushes off of the tree when Brianne gets close enough to them. He performs a small half-bow, which Brianne returns. He must be a warden from Orlais. The Ferelden ones never stand on much ceremony. It took Gwen ages for her wardens to simply address her with the proper honorifics, and she had saved the blighted world!_ _

The elf makes a noise at them, something along the lines of a _pfff. _“Yeah yeah, yer all nobley and shite. Didn’t think you’d do all that fer a witchy pisser, Beardy.”__

____

____“Don’t mind Sera, milady. Mages make her uncomfortable, especially ones she owes her life to.”_ _ _ _

____

____Brianne realizes why the elf is familiar. “You were with that woman I helped in Haven. In the burning building.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Do not!” the woman squeals, in reference to what the Warden said. “She owes me! I kept Coryphyshit’s tossers off her arse while she did her magey business.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Thank you, Sera,” Brianne makes sure to say, looking the woman directly in the eyes. “I am sorry I didn’t say it then. I appreciate a healthy apprehension of magic, but you have nothing to fear from me.”_ _ _ _

____

____“So long as you don’t bust out in demons, yeah,” the elf grumbles with her arms crossed over her chest._ _ _ _

____

____The Warden chuckles and asks, “Are you looking for something, milady? You seemed a little lost.”_ _ _ _

____

____“I was hoping to find some food to take to Commander Cullen. I was advised that he needed it.”_ _ _ _

____

____“I’m afraid we’re running out of rations faster than anticipated. The Inquisition’s had to cut back on what’s offered until more game can be found. This high in the mountains, pickings’re slim. I think they skipped lunch altogether today.”_ _ _ _

____

____Brianne sighs. “Thank you for letting me know.” She turns to walk away when the Warden asks her to hold a moment._ _ _ _

____

____“The Commander needs to keep his strength up. If you go into that larger tent to the right, over there,” he points, “The requisition officers have stashed away dried meats in the wagons behind it. I’m sure they’ll let you take something to Cullen.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Or he can have anuther kind a snack. Jack-a-boot like him’s bound to like peaches,” the elf grins._ _ _ _

____

____“Oh, is there fruit too?” Brianne asks. Sera cackles with her head thrown back, and even the Warden seems to be fighting a smile._ _ _ _

____

____“Nah. See, lady-parts…”_ _ _ _

____

____“Sera,” the Warden cuts her off. “I don’t believe there’s any fruit, milady. Sera’s just teasing you.”_ _ _ _

____

____Brianne smiles, but changes the subject. “Where were you stationed before the Inquisition, if you don’t mind my asking?”_ _ _ _

____

____“The name’s Blackwall, milady. I was in Ferelden recruiting when the Herald found me. I wasn’t having much luck without a Blight on the horizon, so I thought I’d join the Inquisition to help them find out what’s happened to my brothers-and-sisters-in-arms.”_ _ _ _

____

____“You must have met Warden-Commander Amell then. How was she doing the last time you saw her?”_ _ _ _

____

____Blackwall falls quiet for a second, as though deciding on how to respond. Sera has completely checked out of the conversation and seems to be oogling a nearby soldier that’s bent at the waist as she gathers elfroot._ _ _ _

____

____The Warden deflects her question with one of his own. “I didn’t know a Circle mage would be familiar with the Warden-Commander. Have you met her before?”_ _ _ _

____

____“Yes. We were in the same Tower together as adolescents. I’ve also seen her and her husband several times after the Tower fell and the Blight ended. I know she’s been off in the west for a while, and I haven’t been able to send her a letter. I was just wondering how she seemed before she left.”_ _ _ _

____

____Blackwall’s shoulders tense marginally, which Brianne finds curious. “Well then, you know our Hero. She seemed fine, but then I’ve never really been around superiors for long. I prefer working alone, so it suits me fine.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Have you seen Warden Alistair recently?” Brianne is mildly irritated by his initial non-answer, especially since she was looking forward to having someone to talk with about Gwen and the Wardens._ _ _ _

____

____“No, milady. I have not seen any other warden for quite some time now.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Brianne Lochland,” she says, reaching out for a handshake. Blackwall takes it with a smile. His grasp is firm and confident. She thanks him for his help and heads off in search of food for Cullen._ _ _ _

____

____The workers in the mess tent are overjoyed that she’s come to collect food for the Commander. Much of what is put together for him every day gets sent back, a habit that started back in Haven. With a clothful of assorted dried meats and several slices of leftover camp bread, Brianne heads for the center of camp._ _ _ _

____

____A soldier honing the edge of their longsword points her towards a medium-sized tent along the inside curve of a circle of identical gray-brown tents. Brianne waits outside of the entrance flap until she’s certain she hears Cullen’s soft baritone. She takes a breath to calm the butterflies in her stomach before using her elbow to move the flap enough that she can slip inside._ _ _ _

____

____Brianne swallows a noise of surprise as she side-steps around the back end of The Iron Bull. The tent is crammed full of people, and all eyes turn towards the woman that just interrupted the meeting that was taking place._ _ _ _

____

____Caldwell is to the left of his bodyguard, grinning at her like a fool while he reclines on a makeshift chair of wooden crates and burlap sacks. Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, and Sister Leliana are opposite Brianne in the tent. Scattered between them are agents of differing rank, their uniforms representing the different arms of the Inquisition’s forces._ _ _ _

____

____“Oh,” Brianne breathes out, fighting back a blush. “Please excuse the intrusion. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”_ _ _ _

____

____“It’s alright, Annie. Join us.” Cal waves her over to where he’s sitting and motions to the miniscule space next to him on his burlap throne. There’s no way she’s going to get that cozy with the Herald of Andraste, so she settles for sliding around The Iron Bull and standing on the other side of Cal. She nods her head in greeting to the other advisers as Cullen wraps up the meeting and sends the lieutenants off to perform their duties._ _ _ _

____

____“Looks like the rose is finally blooming,” the Qunari says to her as the soldiers shuffle out of the tent._ _ _ _

____

____“Pardon me?”_ _ _ _

____

____“Are you flirting with my childhood sweetheart, Bull?” Caldwell accuses good-naturedly, seconds after Brianne’s question._ _ _ _

____

____“Nah, Boss. That Vint of hers calls her his Marcher Rose. I didn’t see it at first, but now I do.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Caldwell Elias Trevelyan,” Brianne practically growls. “Why on Earth would you say something like that? Six-year olds don’t have sweethearts.”_ _ _ _

____

____“Annie! You were the love of my life,” he announces with aplomb, turning at the waist to look up at her. Belatedly, Brianne realizes that his head is level with her chest. His eyes hover there for a moment before looking up into her own narrowing gaze. “You saved my life and then broke my heart. I was devastated when you vanished into the night. You were as lovely then as you are now. Actually, you do look much nicer than the last time I saw you. Bull’s right. You clean up nicely.” Caldwell settles back onto his crates with a deep sigh and a smile on his face. He throws his hands behind his head and wiggles a bit, attempting to get more comfortable, and settles in as though he means to fall asleep there._ _ _ _

____

____She tries to stay stoic in the face of this theatrics, channeling the Seeker who’s standing nearby, but it’s difficult. Brianne looks up at the Herald’s advisers, all of whom are staring at them with different expressions on their faces._ _ _ _

____

____“I don’t remember him being this obnoxious as a child,” she says, causing everyone in the tent to smile, except for Sister Leliana. Cullen seems to be looking at her more intently than the others, and she raises an eyebrow and looks right back, despite instinct telling her to lower her eyes in submission._ _ _ _

____

_He’s not a templar anymore. He never was that kind of templar, anyways._

______ _ _

______“Is there a question for the lady, Commander?” Josephine ends up asking when the staring match between Cullen and Brianne is held for longer than is socially appropriate. He blinks his eyes rapidly, as though breaking out of a daydream, and says, “Your hair. It’s...uh…it’s frozen.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“What?” Brianne automatically lifts her hands to the top of her head to feel._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Cal opens his eyes and laughs at her. “So it is. Look, at the ends. Little icicles. Didn’t make sure it was completely dry before leaving your tent, did you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Brianne hadn’t done anything with her hair after leaving the company of the Iron Lady, so intent was she on having an excuse to seek out Cullen. She hadn’t even put on her new cloak to combat against the cold. The mage gathers her hair over her shoulder and begins running her hands through it. The water still trapped inside the frozen curtain sizzles as she magically heats her hands enough to melt and evaporate the ice without burning herself or her hair._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Josephine sees the embarrassment she’s trying to hide, and ever the diplomat, attempts to comfort her. “I am afraid I have made that mistake several times since moving to this climate, Lady Lochland. If only I had been able to fix my hair as quickly as you can, I would have saved myself multiple embarrassments and frantic scrambles for accessories.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Brianne smiles in solidarity. “I am no Lady, ambassador. My mother was from a family of Ostwick militiamen, and Maker only knows what my father’s were.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“And you never sought them out? Never cared to know who the Lochland’s are?” asked Sister Leliana. Her tone was accusatory, as though she thought Brianne was hiding something._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“Of course I’ve wondered who they are, but my father always spoke of them as ‘the people who abandoned their filthy mageling to complete strangers.’ I’m sure you can understand why I might not be so eager to find them. If that’s what they thought of their son, who knows how they’d receive their grand-daughter.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______The Spymaster and Qunari are the only ones in the room that do not react to Brianne’s casual comment. Josephine looks stricken, while Cullen and Cassandra have shaped their mouths into identical hard lines. Cal looks furious and reaches out to wrap his fingers around her wrist and squeeze gently. She smiles calmly at everyone, having not really intended to cause so much distress._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Sister Leliana carries on. “Vivienne has told us much about you, Enchanter. You come highly recommended, from both her and the Herald. I was hoping you would enlighten me as to why you were transferred from the Ferelden Circle to Val Royeaux’s?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“You don’t need to interrogate her,” Cal says as Brianne scrambles to think of what she should divulge to the Spymaster. “I’ve already vouched for her. She’s not some spy come to sabotage the Inquisition. She helped defend Haven and brought us crucial news of Calpurnia and the Venatori. She jeopordized her own life in order to ensure that as many people escaped from Haven as possible. I trust her,” he declares passionately. He has leveled the Chantry Sister with the full weight of his gaze. Even half-reclining, his body language screams power and authority. A vision of him in his templar armor flashes before her eyes, but it’s easy to shake off. She’s going to make an effort to think of him as simply Cal from now on, especially if he’s going to go about spouting declarations of unending trust and support._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“And that is why I should not,” Leliana replies succinctly. “It is my job to ask these questions, Herald, especially to those close to you. How long has it been since you’ve seen her? How long before that were you parted? I cannot be the only one that sees how convenient her arrival was. We must take her past into consideration, especially if the rumors Vivienne spoke of are true.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Brianne’s stomach cramps violently at the woman’s reference to the whispers that haunted her entire stay at Kinloch, but Cullen steps forward, drawing everyone’s attention. “I believe we should trust the Herald’s judgement in this, Leliana.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Cassandra steps forward as well, keeping herself level with Cullen. Not a sound is uttered at the Left and Right hands of the Divine carry on a silent conversation with each other through a single, drawn-out look._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“My mother was Knight-Captain Annika Eduards,” Brianne says into the silence of the tent. “If that is what you are referring to. She murdered the men that killed my father. I spent my childhood travelling with her until we could travel no more. I joined the closest Tower, which happened to be Kinloch. That is my story. There were many rumors about what happened, but that is the short of it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“The stories I’ve heard had more blood magic in them,” the Spymaster comments, as causally as speaking about the weather. “Enthralled Chantry officials, murderous blood mages, and a child-revenant more powerful than any demon ever summoned.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______She knew the Chantry Sister was purposefully pushing her buttons, but Brianne saw red nonetheless. “If you have a few hours set aside, Sister, I will be more than happy to describe how my father was butchered in front of my face. How three, drunken noblemen broke into my home and assaulted a child and her father, simply because they were mages. How an entire city turned on a man beloved to them at the first false cry of blood-magic. How my mother was betrayed by her city and Knight-Commander, and how she sought her own form of justice.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

Brianne hadn’t meant to snap, but found she couldn’t stop now that she had started. “I relive my escape from Ostwick in my dreams, quite often, and in _vivid _detail. I can mark the paths we traveled, the farmland where we took shelter, and the cities we lived in for the five years we were running. I can take you back to Redcliffe and show you the exact spot that we decided that enough was enough, and we ran no more. Just give the word, Sister, and I will be at your disposal.”__

________ _ _ _ _

________“And there’s the thorns,” Bull whispers to Cal, just loud enough for Brianne to hear._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Brianne smiles, more teeth than lips, and suggests, “If you need someone else to corroborate my story, I suggest you write to Gwen. If you’d also be so kind as to apologize for me, I’ve been remiss in keeping up with our correspondences.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Leliana is frozen, but in a way that telegraphs it’s own meaning. She’s trying to hide her gut response to Brianne’s outburst. Finally, a single red eyebrow rises toward its matching hairline and Leliana asks, “You know Ceridwen Amell? Hero of the Fifth Blight and Warden-Commander of Ferelden.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Before Brianne can shoot back that the Hero of Ferelden is a sister to her, the Spymaster gasps softly. She strides across the tent and enters Brianne’s personal space, reaching out and taking Brianne’s chin in her hands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“You,” she says, looking into her captive’s eyes. “You were with Wynne. In the antechamber. You had gashes on your arms. Gwen cried for hours back at camp. For those that were lost, and for you. In the Tower, you fought to come with us, but Wynne and Gwen wouldn’t have it. You stayed with the children to protect them. You…” she turns towards the Commander, who has turned pale as well. “You warned us about the templars. Begged us to help them.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Leliana abruptly releases her chin and steps back. Brianne sways to the side for a second, regaining her equilibrium._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________The Spymaster strides past her, but Brianne feels the need to confess just a bit more, in light of the woman’s revelation. “I didn’t recognize you at first either, Sister. We can all agree that it was a traumatic day. That was why I was transferred to the Spire after I passed my Harrowing. They were afraid of me. My father was a proclaimed blood-mage, and Kinloch had just begun recovering from a blood-mage coup. Irving was kind enough, and I don’t think he believed the rumors, but he had to be safe. I was sent somewhere that--should I turn into a raging, frothing, maleficar abomination--they would have the manpower to deal with me. I am an adept mage, just not in the way the rumors led people to believe.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Cal’s hand is a vice-grip around her wrist as the Spymaster nods to her and exits the tent. Brianne glances next at Josephine, who still looks stricken, but attempt to smile at her. “We are glad you are here now, Enchanter,” the Antivan says. “If you are in need of anything, just let me know.” Josephine quickly follows after Leliana, no doubt to check on her as well. Cassandra exits after the ambassador, nodding her farewell to Brianne._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“Annie,” Cal calls, tugging at her wrist. Brianne doesn’t want to look at him. She has no idea what Cal had previously thought about what had happened to her and her mother. She has never speculated as to the rumors that would fly around Ostwick. How much did his parents let him know, when he was older? Had he even cared?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________She’s already been stripped too bare. She can’t do this with him right now. Without looking at the Herald, she steps away from him, gently tugging at her wrist to dislodge his hand. “I came here for a reason,” she says to no one in particular. She holds up the cloth bundle full of scraps of food. “I was tasked with bringing the Commander some food, and am under strict orders not to leave until he eats it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________It’s only partially true. The old kitchen staff was jesting with her when they said it, but Brianne is willing to stretch the truth if it’ll get her time with Cullen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“What?” the Commander asks harshly, and Brianne thinks she might have taken the wrong approach. Bull lets out a full-bodied laugh though, and suggests that he and the Boss get out of their hair. Cal heaves a put-upon sigh and insists that he will find Brianne later. They need to talk._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________It’s immediately clear why Bull was attending the meeting with them when Caldwell tries to stand. He pushes off of the crates and manages to get into a strange, sort-of standing-more-like-squatting position before pitching forward. The Qunari catches him as though he weighs nothing and helps him extend to his full height._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Brianne darts forward with a hissed, “Cal!” She ignores his attempt to deter her and catches his waving hand in hers. She places her other on the patch of uncovered skin along the side of his neck and pushes healing magic into him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Calwell grunts in discomfort, but only for a moment. He’s soon sighing as he recovers some energy, enough that he can stand on his own. He covers the hand at his neck with his larger one and admonishes, “This is why I won’t allow you in my tent. You’re healing too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________For once he’s being completely serious, but his phrasing, along with the pseudo-embrace they’re sharing, lends to multiple meanings. Brianne hastily steps away from him and notes, “It’ll be difficult to chat with me then.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Caldwell smiles over his shoulder as Bull escorts him out. “Oh, we will be having a private conversation soon. You can count on that, Annie.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Finally, it’s just her and the Commander._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________She turns to see him watching her. He’s wearing the same intent expression as he was earlier when he pointed out her frozen hair. This time though, his gaze is alert and focused. She smiles demurely and approaches with her meager offering._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“Whose orders are you following?” Cullen asks as he takes the food from her. He unwraps the cloth and spreads out the assortment of dried meats and bread._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“Your men care a great deal for you,” she answers cryptically._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Cullen’s face is angled down towards the selection on the table, but Brianne can still see the hint of a sardonic smile. They stand in silence as he assesses his options and Brianne assesses his, well, assets._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________He’s a handsome man, that much is given, but he’s also a tired one. Fatigue sits heavy on his shoulders and underneath his eyes. Several days worth of stubble covers his chin and his eyes are bloodshot. Cullen absentmindedly brings a hand to his neck to press at a muscle there, and it’s all Brianne can do to keep herself from projecting a healing spell onto him. It’s never a good idea to cast on someone who’s unprepared for it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Especially a former templar._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________The Commander clears his throat and looks up at her right as she steps closer to him, coming around to his side of the table. “I know it’s not much,” she says, gesturing at the dried goods, “But it’s all I could find on short notice.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“It’s fine. Rations are tight until we can restock. Maker knows when that’ll be, though. Did you...” Brianne watches as a blush creeps above his fur mantle. “Would you like some?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________Brianne smiles brilliantly at him, and the pink at his neck and cheeks darken. “No, but thank you, Commander. I brought this for you. Besides, what would your men think if I stole food meant for their Commander?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“It’s not stealing if it’s freely given,” he replies before taking a small bite of bread. His eyes are smiling at her, and Brianne feels light enough to float away to the clouds._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________It becomes awkward quickly though, what with Brianne standing there staring at Cullen as he eats. She traces the wood grain of the table with her finger and asks, somewhat bashfully, “Are you...doing alright?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question? You’re the one that was trapped in the Fade and battled a demon. How are you holding up, Enchanter?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“I’m well, thank you. We’ve all been through a lot. Your hardships are no less valuable than mine.” Cullen lowers his eyes to his food and presses on his neck again, spurring Brianne into action._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“Commander, may I?” she asks, motioning for him to sit. He sets down the jerky he has in hand and does so. She moves to stand behind his seated form and instantly feels his body lock with tension. “I can tell that your head is hurting. I would like to help.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

________“No,” he barks out, causing Brianne to freeze with her hands just shy of his neck. He pivots in his seat and looks at her raised hands. There are storm clouds in his eyes as he insists that he’s fine. It’s nothing. Brianne shouldn’t bother herself with expending magic at his expense. He will be fine. He’ll manage. He always does._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

If Cullen thinks that Brianne will back down easily, he has another thing coming. “I think I should be able to choose who I _bother _to help,” she retorts sharply, angered that he thinks so little of himself and his pain (as his earlier comments led her to suspect).__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Cullen opens his mouth to say something, but Brianne keeps on talking as she reaches out and grasps the base of his skull as best she can. “If anyone deserves to _waste _my time and resources, it’s the Commander of the Inquisition.”__

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Enchanter…” he tries again, but Brianne isn’t listening anymore. Using her thumbs, she presses on the muscles that extend down from the base of the skull. Cullen issues a noise of surprise that quickly transforms into a deep and pained groan. His hands clench on the table, and Brianne wishes she could see his expression in order to tell if it’s the right kind of pain or the wrong kind._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Or she could just ask him. “Is this alright?” Her thumbs slowly descend along the line of muscle, and Cullen whispers out a barely audible agreement. “Do I have your permission to use my magic? You have a clustering of severely inflamed capillaries near both temples. While massages are nice, they only treat the symptom, not the problem. I can reduce your inflammation, if you’ll let me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Cullen sighs and turns his head slightly to the side, possibly in attempt to look at her. “I’m not a templar anymore, nor you a Circle mage. You don’t have to seek my permission in order to use magic.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Brianne cannot stop herself from carding her fingers through the hair at the back of the Commander’s head (all in the name of an effective massage, of course). She can feel the residue of the pommade he uses to keep his curls in check, and she wishes she could see it in its natural state. “It’s just common courtesy to ask before engulfing a person in a strange spell, Commander. I also...” Brianne trails off before she finishes the thought, unsure if she’s about to cross a line. She wants to remind him that she was there at Kinloch. She knows what happened to him. How they failed him. How he was tortured. She will never, ever use magic on him without his express permission._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Unless he’s dying, or incapacitated, or something else along those lines. Healer’s ethics go out the window when a loved one’s life is at stake._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_A loved one? Really, Lochland? Just this morning you were convinced it was a simple infatuation. _And then she had run into all the different people throughout the morning and afternoon that had planted a seed of hope in her heart. This kind and handsome man had protected her while she was helpless and comforted her when she awoke in terror. This man who blushed at her flirting and insisted she have nothing to fear from him. This same man that is now sitting in front of her, at her mercy, making sounds that are lighting her up from the inside out simply from her hands on his skin. Oh how hope had seeded and grown since this morning.__

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“What was that?” he asks, forcing her from her racing thoughts. That’s right, she didn’t finish what she was saying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She settles for promising him that she will always ask first. Then she gently begins directing her magic through the path her hands are following, tracing up and around his skill, and settling at his temples. His body relaxes even further, and Brianne has to step even closer to him so that he won’t slump backwards and fall out of his makeshift chair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________It’s the easiest healing Brianne’s done in quite a while, so she isn’t sure why her heart rate spikes suddenly. The organ crashes against her rib cage as her mouth dries out and ears begin to buzz._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________No. Not her ears. The buzzing is coming from Cullen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Maferath’s swollen asshole. No. Not again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Not Cullen._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne’s jaw clenches and she fights the urge to flee, crawl into her bedroll, and hide in the dark until she feels safe again. Visions of her mother flash in her mind’s eye, all set to the high-pitched buzzing of a body fighting lyrium withdrawals._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Enchanter?” Cullen quietly calls to her. She’s stopped the massage, along with the healing. She’s just standing there with her hands clenched to his head like a lunatic. He’s probably wondering what’s going on. She needs to come up with something to say, and fast. Something they can laugh off and forget about. Something that allows them to move on with their lives and focus on the Inquisition’s purpose._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Instead, she whispers, “You stopped using your philter.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The Commander doesn’t tense up, but he does straighten in his seat with Brianne’s hands still clinging to his hair. “How do you know that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I can hear it,” she says seriously, and the Commander doesn’t comment on the strangeness of her phrasing. “And I also know what to look for.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He slowly nods his head, but says no more. Neither does she. Brianne needs time to work up the courage to ask, “How long?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“It will be a year in a few weeks.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________One year. That was when everything took a turn for the worst for her mother. Small symptoms turned into larger ones. Headaches turned to migraines. Irritability turned to violent rages. Chills became prolonged cold sweats, mild fatigue became lethargy, and frequent nightmares became insomnia. And the confusion. The disorientation. The inability to distinguish the waking world from the Fade: all mixed up in a deadly cocktail the body and mind had to deal with all at once._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Cullen wasn’t exhibiting severe withdrawal signs and symptoms yet. Brianne wouldn’t have even guessed that he was off of lyrium if she hadn’t felt it herself. But it will soon come upon him, and Brianne doesn’t...can’t...won’t stick around to watch another person rot away from the inside out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_Coward, _her mind whispers in Mouse’s voice. The spirit had called her mother a coward, and Brianne had railed against the notion, but only because it was just shy of its mark. Annika wasn’t the coward: her daughter was. Is.__

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Brianne is a coward. She’s spent her whole life running: from the choices of her father, from the sins of her mother, and from every problem she can’t heal or talk away. She runs when she’s scared, when she’s angry, or when she’s overwhelmed. She ran from Fiona, from Felix, from Redcliffe._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________The only time she didn’t run away was when Kinloch was under internal siege. She fought to stay with Gwen, and instead of running away into the familiar hills of the Hinterlands as the tower fell in chaos around her, Brianne stood sentinel at the lower level entranceway with Gregoir and the remaining templars. She healed every mage to come stumbling through that door. She remembers healing Cullen. He had come barrelling into the room and launched himself at his Knight-Commander. Cullen had to be restrained and sedated in order to let any mage near him to help._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Cullen had been abandoned, both during and after that horror. The Circle mages had failed their templars, just as the templars had failed to keep their mages safe. Cullen had paid the price. No one had tried to rescue him, and no one had tried to help him later as terror and paranoia swallowed up the kind and patient man he used to be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

What is she thinking? She can’t stay and watch him suffer? By everything that is holy in this world and beyond, she _will _stay. And he will not suffer.__

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________No. Not again. Never again. She couldn’t help her mother, but she can help this man that she cares for. She can at least fucking try._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“I will help,” she says aloud, curling her fingers in his hair one last time before releasing him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“What can even be done?” he asks resignedly, twisting at the waist to look at her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Honestly? I’m not sure” she says. His expression lightens as a bemused smile creeps into his features. “But I’m going to help. Whatever needs to be done, will be done.” His eyes turn intent again, never leaving hers as she grasps his hand resting on the table to lace her fingers together with his._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Brianne and her mother make it to Ferelden.


	27. From These Emerald Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas witnesses a piece of Brianne's past, and a physical altercation brings our Enchanter and Commander closer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a headache since AO3 forced me to reconfigure my chapter count for this story. I just can’t. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much (I planned for 30 chapters and it’s going to be 30 chapters long goddamn it! *t-rex screeching*) I’ve combined my original chapters 26 & 27 into one. I think it’s okay. Let me know if it’s weird. I’ve lost my beta. He’s got too much on his plate called life right now, so I’ll need some extra help from here on out. Many thanks and much love!
> 
> Also: Warning for the last part of the chapter for physical violence. Someone gets assaulted while they are unable to defend themselves.

Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.  
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.  
\--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 14:11

Brianne stands on the deck of _The Boreas _, relishing in the feel of the wind as it pulls wisps of hair loose from her braid. The air is crisp and salty. The sun is harsh and glaring off of the waves of The Waking Sea. The only sounds that can be heard are the ones made by the ship as it cuts its way through the water.__

__Even though the deck is slick from the sea spray, Solas gracefully makes his way over to where she stands. He joins her at the railing, and they stand in silence, watching the rainbows created by the sunshine at it meets the mirror of the top of ocean._ _

__“I have never been on a ship before,” Solas finally notes. Brianne sees his eyes following a sea bird off in the distance as it dances along the top of the water._ _

__“This is the only one I’ve ever been on. I was eight years old. It took us three weeks to get from Cumberland to Jader.”_ _

__They stand in comfortable silence again until shouting from the crow’s nest has Brianne hurrying over to the bow of the ship with Solas following slowly after. “There’s Jader,” she points. Solas scans the distant shoreline with the same level of interest as he had with the sea bird. Brianne appreciates that about him. He’s the perfect teacher because there’s nothing that passes his notice. There’s nothing he doesn’t see, analyze, and mitigate. Brianne is hoping to enhance those skills along with her ability to protect herself and control her dreams._ _

__“You have lived in many places.” The elf phrases the statement in such a way as to sound like a question._ _

__“Our original destination was Highever, in Ferelden. We had someone expecting us. It took us over a year to make it across The Waking Sea. Mother figured our contact wouldn’t be waiting anymore. We meant to stay in Jader once we got there.”_ _

__“Why didn’t you?”_ _

Instead of verbally answering, Brianne focuses her thoughts and the scene around them shifts. They’re now standing on Jadar’s docks as _The Boreas _empties of both cargo and crew. Brianne spots her mother and Ulric carrying a large crate down the guide plank. Her younger self appears a moment later, handing an itemized list of infirmary goods to the ship’s captain. Mother and daughter both look ill. Annika has deep, purple bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep, and Brianne watches as her eight-year old body is overcome with a tremor.__

____

____

__The captain reaches out and steadies Brianne. Once she’s calm, he walks her down to where her mother waits. Annika takes Brianne from him and shakes his hand. He clasps the woman’s shoulder and they exchange a few words that Solas and the elder Brianne can’t hear._ _

___“It seems that life at sea did not agree with you.”_ _ _

___“I was fine on the ship. I didn’t have sea-sickness. Neither did Mother. It was a valuable and enjoyable experience, for the most part. I’m a wreck because I haven’t used my magic in three weeks.”_ _ _

___Solas blinks owlishly for a moment while watching her younger self be led away from the ship, hand-in-hand with Annika. “Not once? Not for any reason?”_ _ _

___Brianne shakes her head. “Not once. I almost did, several times, but Mother was so worried that someone would see it, or sense it. There were no other mages on board. We didn’t know what the crew’s attitude towards magic was. We were trying to be safe. How long have you gone without using your magic?”_ _ _

___Solas is silent as they follow the dream-figures away from the docks and into the city proper. When young Brianne stumbles over something in the street and collides with a tall man in leather armor, Solas finally comments, “I have never gone more than a few hours without magic. It is a second skin. If I have ever gone a full day without it, I always travel in my dreams at night. That provides an outlet for any build-up of energy.”_ _ _

___“I must have grown into being a dreamer,” Brianne says sadly as she watches the man shove her younger self off of him and instinctively reach for the dagger at his belt. Annika steps forward to diffuse the situation, but it’s too late. Eight- year old Brianne curls in on herself as a cloud of purple energy erupts from her tiny body. It shoots out in a sweeping circle, covering more distance than Brianne has ever seen a Fear spell cover. The man screams and drops his dagger. A few feet away, a woman faints, and Brianne can hear the crack of her skull hitting the paved street. Even Annika turns to run from her daughter, but only makes it a few steps away before forcing herself to turn back._ _ _

___It’s clear her mother tries to cast a Spell Purge, or maybe start a Silencing, but Annika doubles over in pain as one hand clutches at her right temple. She soldiers through it, picking her daughter up and racing away down a side street as those not affected by the spell shout at them in Orlesian._ _ _

___“It is a sad world that allows a child to suffer like this,” Solas says. “I am sorry that your childhood was the way it was. Children deserve to be nurtured as they grow. They should feel safe and secure, with enough space and support to help them become who they are meant to be. To grow into their potential.”_ _ _

___Brianne’s smile is bittersweet. “Some days I wish things had been different, but most days I don’t. As terrible as it sounds, if we hadn’t lived through what we had, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Or who I am now. As you said, I have travelled to more parts of Thedas in twenty years than most people have in their lifetime.”_ _ _

___The Fade around them changes a second time. It’s snowing gently, and footprints lead off the mountain pass towards an empty, open-air bazaar built into the side of a mountain. A young Brianne and her mother are huddled together inside an empty tent, sleeping the evening away. The elder Brianne hears a sharp intake of breath from Solas, and turns to see his burning gaze fixed on the towering, ornate gate set back into the mountain._ _ _

___“Orzammar.” The elf says the name with a reverence Brianne hasn’t heard from him yet._ _ _

___“We were only passing through,” she says as the snow and harsh, mountain edges slowly transform into sunshine and green, rolling hills._ _ _

___“This is near Skyhold,” Solas notes, surprising Brianne._ _ _

___“Yes, I believe so. The Arling of Edgehall backs up to the Frostbacks. It’s far enough below the snow line that the weather’s pleasant during spring and summer. Had Mother and I known about Skyhold, we might have tried to stay there for a while. It’s lucky you stumbled upon it in your dreams when you did.”_ _ _

___Solas hums in acknowledgement as he scans the horizon. “What did you do here?”_ _ _

___“We tried to find an inn that needed extra help, but Edgehall is small for an Arling. The Bannorn it’s connected to is even smaller. There’s not much traffic in this area, so no merchants or businesses needed seasonal help. The best we could do was hunt. We rented a room for a while, but we didn’t make much money on the Dalish salves and tinctures I made. Mother traded in pelts and meat with the locals, but she didn’t have her own shop to contain the messes she made. By this point, her lyrium withdrawal was so great she would have violent fits regularly. Edgehall was the second place we were run out of because of her and not me.”_ _ _

___The arling’s castle vanishes and is replaced with a campsite. The night is peaceful and the campfire crackles cheerfully, but it’s a somber picture that greets them. Annika is wrapped in several layers of pelts. Her clammy hands clutch them together near her throat. Her eyes are unfocused, and she seems to be muttering quietly to herself as she shivers. A ten-year old Brianne stirs liquid in a small pot suspended over the fire. She ladles the liquid into a bowl, also muttering something as she adds a small vial-full of green liquid. She turns to her mother and helps her grasp the bowl, coaxing her to drink._ _ _

___“Oh Mama…” the elder Brianne whispers, moving closer to the dream-fire. Solas stays at the edge of camp, barely visible as the light from the flames flicks over his unmoving form._ _ _

___“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written.”_ _ _

___“Mama,” young Brianne interrupts. “I need you to drink this now.”_ _ _

___“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter…”_ _ _

___“Mama,” Brianne holds her mother’s hands against the bowl, lifting it up to Annika’s mouth. “It’s dinnertime.”_ _ _

___Annika doesn’t seem to hear her daughter. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just...”_ _ _

___Brianne sighs and lowers the bowl. “Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken, there ‘pon the mountain a voice answered my call.”_ _ _

___Annika’s eyes lock on her daughter. The woman frowns and chides, “That’s not Benedictions.”_ _ _

___Brianne smirks and nudges her mother’s hands, still holding the bowl. “Andraste 1: The Maker Appears to Andraste.”_ _ _

___Annika seems placated, and slowly begins to drink her broth. “Was I ignoring you again?”_ _ _

___“Yes,” Brianne says as she turns to fill her own bowl full of liquid._ _ _

___“It helps me concentrate. If I focus on the words, I won’t focus on the pain.”_ _ _

___“I know,” her daughter acknowledges. “You just get stuck in the chant sometimes. It worries me.”_ _ _

___Annika laughs heartily, completely at odds with how frail she looks. “I thought that was my line.”_ _ _

___The verbal reparté ends when a loud, snapping sound echoes through the clearing. Annika is up on her feet with her sword drawn faster than her daughter can blink. The woman’s stance widens as she bares her teeth at the darkness surrounding their camp. Her grip is steady and firm as she twists her wrist, twirling her long sword in a threatening manner. The image is a stark contrast to the shivering woman whose daughter was helping her drink broth just a moment before._ _ _

___Brianne stays still next to the fire as her mother prowls the outskirts. Annika passes by Solas, who is watching her, eyes full of both understanding and respect. Brianne feels a muted sense of pride that her teacher is pleased by what he sees in her mother, as ridiculous and unnecessary as it is. Falling back into the events of the past, Brianne calls out, “Mama, I think it’s okay.”_ _ _

___Annika doesn’t seem to hear her, and calls out for any intruders to show themselves. When nothing and no one responds, Annika lets out a growl and lowers herself into a crouch. Brianne stands and repeats her earlier statement, hopeful that it will be enough to snap her mother out of her instinct to fight and protect._ _ _

___It isn’t. Annika stays crouched, unmoving, for longer than Brianne would have thought possible. Brianne says her mother’s name one more time as she steps around the fire towards her immobile form, accidentally stepping into their pile of dry kindling in the process._ _ _

___Annika pivots and snarls, hurling a handful of dirt directly into her daughter’s face. Brianne cries out and stumbles backwards. Stupid. That had been a stupid thing to do. She should have known better than to approach her from behind when she was caught in one of her trances. Brianne can’t find the water, blinded as she is at the moment, and her eyes and nose burn as she blinks and rubs at them, her body attempting to clean itself by producing tears and mucus._ _ _

All of a sudden she hears Solas directly behind her. “Breathe, _da’len _. You will be fine. Remember where you are, and what you can do.”__

____

_____Brianne takes a deep, heaving breath. She can taste the dirt in her mouth. She can feel the grit trapped under her eyelashes. This is all just a dream, but it feels so very real._ _ _ _ _

____

_____“Who says it’s not?” Solas asks rhetorically. “In the Fade, your perceptions shape everything. What is reality, if not a collection of our perceptions? Everything here is as real as it is in the waking world. The only difference is, here you can change your surroundings with a single thought.”_ _ _ _ _

____

_____Brianne forces herself to remember what it feels like to have clear, dirt-free eyes. She focuses on that feeling and wills it to happen. She’s been practicing this with Solas for several nights now. Supposedly, the Fade bends to the strongest of wills._ _ _ _ _

____

_____Her pain vanishes and she blinks at her surroundings. The campfire setting is gone, replaced with the generic fog and empty space of the inactive Fade. Solas gives her an approving look._ _ _ _ _

____

_____“Since we were on the subject of lyrium withdrawal, how is the Commander doing?”_ _ _ _ _

____

_____It seems as though Solas isn’t going to ask about what he just witnessed. Maybe he’s simply saving his questions for later. “He is doing better than I had expected. His worst symptom so far is his headaches. The nightmares and insomnia are easily treatable, but his migraines persist no matter what I do.”_ _ _ _ _

____

_____“See if you can convince the Commander to let me look at him. I respect his wishes to keep his personal business confidential, but I would be better able to help him if I could see his symptoms firsthand.”_ _ _ _ _

____

_____“I will try again,” Brianne promises as she feels the tell-tale signs of her body beginning to awake. “Shall we meet again tomorrow?”_ _ _ _ _

____

“ _Ma nuvenin _,” is all she hears before her spirit reconnects with her body and she’s suddenly yawning and curling tighter into the warmth of her blanket. She buries her face in her pillow, unwilling to rise and greet the day just yet.__

______ _ _

_______********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______The sounds of Skyhold fill Brianne with such joy._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______It had seemed like a miracle from the Maker when Solas approached Caldwell with news that there was an abandoned fortress nearby. It had only taken two days of scouting before Skyhold was found, and another two for the entire Inquisition caravan to make it to the crumbling ruin._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______That was just over a week ago. Sections of the fortress have been claimed for different purposes, and everyone is working hard on rebuilding their new home. A wave of pilgrims from Ferelden arrived late last night, taking all by surprise and causing Josephine to have a miniature, apoplectic fit. The ambassador recovered quickly though, and the guests were stored safely away in the only wing of rooms that doesn’t have holes in the roof._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______Brianne fell asleep last night listening to the sounds of footsteps echoing through the yard in front of the infirmary. Cassandra had spotted her and tried to convince her to bed down in another place, but Brianne would not be swayed. Cal had just designated this corner of the the upper courtyard for the infirmary, and Brianne was staking her claim. Besides, she and the surgeon that had taken command of the healers tents weren’t getting along very well, and Brianne didn’t want to ostracize herself completely. It hadn’t mattered that the infirmary didn’t technically have a roof yet, and Brianne had to spend several hours clearing away the broken pieces of stone light enough for her to lift. Cassandra finally let her be when Brianne promised that if it began raining, she would take shelter with Morris in the requisitions office next door._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______Brianne loves the noise that reaches her from her cot in the corner of the open air room. While she appreciates time alone to think and work, prolonged silence reminds her of the wilderness, of nights by the fire with her mother unable to speak to her, and of her days of confinement at Kinloch when every mage save Gwen was too scared to befriend her._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______Brianne loves the sounds of productivity and companionship. The sharp clang of hammers, the idle gossip of workers, and the burnt honey smell of the smoke coming from the undercroft is a symphony for her senses._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______After lying on her cot, processing what had happened in the Fade with Solas, Brianne had gotten up and worked some more on clearing out her space. Well, it wasn’t her personal space, but once Morris was provided with the proper resources, this area would quickly transform into a healer’s sanctuary. Brianne wanted to help with that in any way she could._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______A servant had come for her early that afternoon to tell her that Lady Vivienne was requesting her presence. Brianne had met with the Iron Lady at the top of her golden tower (more like rusted, shambling tower) and they had conferred on the best ways to contact and recruit the rebel and apostate mages that were left and spread thin across Ferelden, Orlais, and the Free Marches._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______Nothing concrete had been decided by the time Brianne’s stomach had started complaining that it was empty. She had bid the First Enchanter good day, and was currently crossing over to the library to find Dorian. Perhaps he would take a break from sorting and shelving books to have lunch with her._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______She passes through the doorway separating Vivienne’s loft from the library and stops dead in her tracks near where Helisma sits. The Tranquil looks up from her notes, but returns to what she’s doing when she sees that Brianne is not staring at her, but at the Inquisitor and the Tevinter mage._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______Dorian is leaning back against a mostly empty bookshelf with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Brianne would be worried at the defensive body language, except that the smirk on his lips and the jut of his hip tell a different story. The myriad of buckles adorning his clothing shine when the sunlight coming through the stained glass window hits them, a contrast in color and texture to what Caldwell is wearing._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______He’s a study in dark tones: the olive of his breeches and deep maroon of his tunic complementing his skin tone beautifully. Cal is also leaning against a bookshelf with his left arm is raised above his head. The tunic clings and pulls tight there, showing off his bicep. He’s leaning slightly forward, almost entering into Dorian’s personal space, but not quite. He’s also sporting a lazy grin, but the expression in his eyes is more earnest than playful._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_______So Dorian is being flirtatious, but cautious, and Cal reciprocating, but forcing himself not to come on too strong._ _ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

_Oh these boys, _Brianne smiles to herself, slowly backing away from the laughing men and turning towards the stairwell. She will have to talk to both of them later, separately. Each of them are incorrigible scoundrels, but they are her incorrigible scoundrels, and she wants to know their intentions towards each other. She’s never had any friends close enough to act protective of, so she’s going to relish the experiences.__

________ _ _ _ _

_________She changes direction once she reaches Solas’ rotunda. Smiling at him in greeting, she crosses the room and heads out the door that leads to Cullen’s tower. If Dorian is too busy flirting to have lunch with her, maybe Cullen will._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________There’s a soldier standing outside the Commander’s door with a clipboard in her hand and a satchel full of notes at her hip. Brianne would normally enter straight into the office beyond the door, but pauses this time to ask, “Is the Commander in a meeting?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“No ser,” the soldier replies. “But he is very busy. Did you need to speak with him?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“Enchanter Lochland,” Brianne greets while reaching out for a handshake. “I’m a healer. I just wanted to…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“Oh thank the Maker,” the soldier interrupts, returning the handshake. “Sorry. Sergeant Bedard, at your service. Did Seeker Pentaghast send you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne’s quizzical expression is answer enough. “Bollocks. Well, you’re here, so would you mind going in? That’s where you’re headed anyways, isn’t it? He’s having one of his days, if you know what I mean.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne is shocked. Cullen had made it seem as though his ‘condition’ was a tight-lipped secret only a select few knew about. Either Cullen shouldn’t be trusting the people he is with his secrets, or his signs and symptoms must be more pronounced and notable than they both realized._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Or his soldiers know him and care about him more than he believes they do, as evidenced by Sergeant Bedard camping outside of her commanding officer’s quarters, taking notes and shooing away anyone that does not have immediate and pressing business with him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne enters the tower office and holds back a sad sigh. Cullen has hung blankets over all of the windows on the bottom level in an attempt to block out the harsh sunlight, which would have been helpful if there wasn’t a giant hole in his roof that no one has fixed yet. Cullen is sitting at the only piece of intact furniture on the bottom level: his desk. It’s large, strong, and sturdy, which it needs to be with the top half of the Commander draped over it as he is. He was mostly likely working on paperwork, but is now cradling his head in both hands as he takes deep breaths. Brianne watches the measured rise and fall of his shoulders as she quietly makes her way across the room towards him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________He doesn’t look up at her until she calls his name, sotto voce. He starts slightly, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Are you cold?” she asks him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“No. More the opposite,” he murmurs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne smiles in relief and moves behind him to help take off his lion pelt-trimmed vest-thing. She doesn’t know why he’s wearing the damn thing, but at least he hadn’t put his armor on. Brianne leans forward across his back to roll and tuck the neckline of his tunic down, exposing more of his neck to both the air and her deft fingers as they trace healing magic down the bit of his spine they can reach._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Cullen breathes out slowly through his nose as Brianne works, dropping his head forward to rest his chin on his chest. His migraine is persistent, his body fighting being well. The buzzing in his blood has taken on a new tone, which worries her. With each passing week more and more lyrium is expelled from his system. Brianne would have thought that after a full year of not ingesting any more, his system would be clean of the stuff. It’s not though, and the residual dregs latch on to blood vessels with the ferocity of a wild mabari, setting off the chain reaction that creates the life-altering withdrawal symptoms that consistently lead to relapses._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne add some pressure, digging her thumbs into the muscle that runs along the tops of his shoulders. Cullen hisses in pain, but Brianne keeps working, certain in her ability to know when she’s hurting him in the wrong way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Except her instincts don’t take into account the possibility of altered moods and unreasonable reactions to stimuli in withdrawal patients. Cullen lets out a noise of displeasure and suddenly her wrist is being yanked and tossed away. “That hurts!” he exclaims with a palpable undercurrent of anger._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne steps away from him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“I thought you knew what you were doing,” he complains. He isn’t looking at her. His eyes are fixed on his desk again as he uses his thumbs to press between his eyes. “Why are you here?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“I wanted to have lunch with you. Dorian’s busy, and I thought…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Cullen stands suddenly, causing his chair to slide backwards and smack heavily into her legs. She yelps and hobbles backwards into the wall, bending over to put pressure on where her shins hurt. She hears Cullen issue a noise more common in Cassandra than himself, and all of a sudden the chair goes flying across the room to smash into the eastern wall. Sergeant Bedard comes hurling through the door soon after, wearing a look of surprise to match the Commander's._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne can see it on his face: the incredulity of it all. He can’t really believe he just threw a chair in a fit of anger. She has to leave. She has to get out of there. It doesn’t matter that Cullen looks shocked and remorseful. Her name on his lips isn’t enough to stop her as she strides past Bedard and away from the tower._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________How many times has she seen that same expression on her mother’s face? Brianne thinks about last night’s dream as she walks towards Josephine’s office. Her mother had begged for Brianne’s forgiveness after helping clean the dirt out of her daughter’s eyes. Brianne had forgiven her. She always forgave her. Annika was her mother, and she was hurting. She never meant to lash out at Brianne. She would lash out at anyone when her withdrawal symptoms flared up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Even though Brianne has decided to make a concerted effort not to run from her problems anymore, she can’t stop herself from leaving Cullen in his office even if she tried. She wasn’t prepared for that. There were too many bad memories, too much pain centered around acts committed in the flashfire of anger._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________She feels safe with Cullen. She knows he would never intentionally hurt her, but he is also turning unpredictable. She has to guard against all possibilities until she can figure out how to lessen his withdrawal symptoms. Or cure them altogether._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________The worst part is that Cullen doesn’t know about her mother. He thinks she walked away from his outburst. That she’s frightened of him. She’s not. It isn’t about him. Not really. It’s about her and her past. He’s shared many of his metaphorical demons with her. If she’s as serious about being with him as she thought she was, then it’s time that she gathers the courage to share some of her demons with him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne hasn’t even told Caldwell the whole of her story yet. They finally had that heart-to-heart that he had threatened her with, but it was worlds less painful that she thought it’d be. Shorter, too. Cal had cornered her down by the empty stables the other day and proceeded to squeeze the life out of her while muttering apology after apology into her hair (he especially begged for forgiveness for being such an ass to her when they were at the Spire together all those years ago). She had forgiven him, and he had asked if she wanted to talk more about her time after Ostwick. She had said no, and he had let it alone. He left her with the promise that he’d be there to listen whenever she needed him to, and vanished into the evening light._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Refocusing on the present, Brianne opens Josephine’s door, knowing that the ambassador will have something for her to do that will take her mind off of things. Just for a few hours, Brianne needs to be productive and helpful. She needs to do something with her hands and mind that creates solid proof that she is valuable. She is needed. She is good._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________The Antivan looks up from her writing and smiles distractedly at Brianne, who dons a cloak of false levity as she asks the ambassador what she can do to help her today._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________********************_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne thought she would regret following Varric into The Herald’s Rest by now, but she doesn’t. At least, not yet._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________After spending the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening penning replies and correspondences for Josephine while sitting next to Varric in the reception hall, Brianne had been conscripted by the dwarf into an evening at the tavern. Brianne had tried to beg off the invitation, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Which is how she finds herself sandwiched between him and Sera at a table, listening to stories of the Champion and drinking a finer quality of ale than she expected to find at such a new establishment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Her attention is diverted occasionally by Caldwell and Dorian, sitting opposite to her. Their chairs are pressed close together, their bodies following suit. If Dorian were leaning any closer to his beau, he’d be draped across the man’s lap. Brianne isn’t certain why Dorian’s acting more intoxicated than he actually is, other than to have an excuse to fawn over Cal without immediate repercussions. Brianne knows how well the mage can told his liquor. Cal has barely finished his first ale, and doesn’t seem too intent on it, directing most of his attention and energy to the man painted onto his side._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________It’s adorable. In between Varric’s stories, they’ve had to put up with good-natured ribbing from almost everyone in the tavern, which is filled to the brim with off-duty agents. In order to keep up the facade of being over-inebriated, Dorian’s been pointedly ignoring the comments. Cal hasn’t, and every time someone makes a mildly lewd observation or insinuation, the Inquisitor just grins roguishly and waggles his eyebrows conspiratorially, causing everyone to laugh._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Varric’s just finished recounting the comical tale of the Champion searching for the owner of a specific pair of pantaloons in Kirkwall’s Hightown when Brianne stands from the table. She doesn’t completely clear her chair as she moves around it, and stumbles into the ring of soldiers that have gathered to listen to the stories. She’s caught easily, and everyone has a laugh. All of a sudden The Iron Bull is there, helping to guide her through the crowd towards the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“Had a bit too much to drink, huh?” he comments as he holds the tavern door open for her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“Where’s Rosie going?” Brianne hears Varric call out, making her roll her eyes at the monicker._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“This is your fault,” she tell the Qunari, turning to poke him in the chest. Except he’s too tall, so she ends up barely missing his belly button._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“How’s it my fault? I didn’t give you any maraas-lok.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne squints at the giant, trying to figure out where the conversation’s threads got crossed. “What? No...Rose. Rosie. You got everyone to call me that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________The Iron Bull chuckles, leaning back against the side of the building. “And I’m not sorry.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“It’s stupid. Stupid name. I hate roses. They’re hard to keep.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________He hums condescendingly, as though dealing with a petulant child. “You gonna be able to get back to your room?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“Yeah,” she waves her hand at him. “I’m fine. Great. Gonna go to bed, though.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“You do that. Good night, Rose.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne turns away and heads towards her corner of the courtyard. Even intoxicated, she can feel the weight of the Iron Bull’s eyes on her retreating form._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________She makes it around the corner of the tavern before her gut twists in warning. Stepping towards the side of the building, thinking her body just needs to empty the contents of her stomach, Brianne is unprepared for the hand that grips firmly onto her arm. She’s yanked backwards as another hand covers her mouth, muffling her noise of surprise._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Brianne can barely see in the dim light, but she can tell that it’s a man that has a hold of her, and that he’s not wearing the general recruit uniform. She doesn’t recognize him from Redcliffe Castle. She’s inebriated enough that she’s more shocked than frightened, and tries to ask him what he’s doing while his hand still covers her mouth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________He shushes her and drags her towards the darkened corner where Cassandra runs through her morning drills. She goes without much fuss, comfortable in the fact that the spot is close enough to both the tavern and Morris’ office that she can easily call for help if she needs to._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________Or she can always shove an icicle up his ass for accosting her. Sweet Andraste, what on earth has she had to drink tonight?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

_________“Monster!” the stranger hisses at her, shoving her against the side of the stone building. With her reaction time impaired, Brianne can’t catch herself. She cries out, and the man is on her again. His palm is sweaty against her mouth, and his forearm crushes against her windpipe. “Disgusting, spineless mage!” he says, spittle flying to land across her face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

Brianne’s response of _Who are you and what are you talking about? _is muffled against his hand. He must not care about what she has to say, as he continues on his tirade. “I was there. You left them to die. I saw EVERYTHING!” He glances around quickly to see if anyone heard him, but no one is walking over. “You and that Tevinter criminal. You’ve blinded the Inquisitor. Spun some spell over him. They don’t know what you really are. What you’ve done. I was there. My family…”__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The man breaks down with a choked sob, adding pressure to the arm pinning Brianne to the cold stone. She attempts to gather energy for a Mind Blast, but her brain is foggy from the alcohol, and the man’s pained whisper of _Redcliffe _stops Brianne’s blood cold.__

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“You know. Mage-bitch! You KNOW.” Her assailant pulls her away from the wall before backhanding her. Twice._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Briann’s ears ring as she drops to the ground at his feet. “I had a wife. Alejandra. I had a little boy. Jaycen. They’re dead, you fucking coward! I was there. You ran from the Vints. The whole town was dying and you ran. I heard what happened at Haven. You could have saved them! You could have saved everyone, and you ran.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Brianne whispers an apology with her head lowered towards the ground. It only serves to enrage him further. He makes a movement, and Brianne braces herself, but nothing happens. She hears a harsh grunt followed by a scream, and then gentle hands are on her shoulder, and a voice is in her ear saying, “Not your fault. Not his fault. No one’s fault but Corypheus.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Brianne also hears other voices. It’s hard to tell through the ringing, but she’s almost certain that Varric is there, along with The Iron Bull. Caldwell is shouting something to someone, and there’s a flurry of activity around her little corner. Dorian’s hands lift her chin to force her to look at him, and she wonders if anyone notices how he was able to sober up so quickly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________He curses quietly in Tevene, which makes Brianne grin. It’s that exact moment that she realizes her lip is split and dripping blood down her front. Caldwell comes to crouch next to Dorian, and he curses as well, metaphorical lightning flashing in his eyes as he takes in her injuries._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“What happened?” The Inquisitor asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Justice!” the stranger shouts before he takes a knee to the groin from Sera. When did she get there? The Iron Bull holds the man steady as he gasps through the pain, bending forward in the Qunari’s solid grip._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Brianne can’t seem to answer Cal’s question. Her head is fuzzy, her face is finally starting to hurt, and her throat is sore. She tries, but a wounded noise issues forth, embarrassing her and causing Dorian’s fingers to grip tighter to her arm as he helps her stand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Cole comes to her rescue. Again. “That man is hurting. He needed to let it out. She was there, and he saw her eyes again and remembered. He had to do something.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“She’s a murderer,” Brianne’s assailant wheezes. “She was...in Redcliffe when the Venatori struck, your worship. She...ran from the fight...left the elderly and children to die. It was a slaughter.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Her hand in mine, eyes still so green. Why is she cold when the fire’s burning? His bed is empty. He should be here, but he’s gone. All my fault. Bewildered and broken and bloody. These mages are monsters and must be stopped.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________“Thank you, Cole.” Caldwell says, stopping the spirit. “I need two volunteers to take this man to the cells for the night.” Brianne starts when several more than two people step forward to take her attacker from The Iron Bull. It looks like the entire tavern came to see what the fuss was about._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________The man from Redcliffe doesn’t fight against his jailers, but shouts a parting warning to Caldwell. “Watch your allies, Inquisitor. They are snakes in the grass, without honor or integrity. Especially that Vint throwing himself at you!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________Dorian’s back is to everyone but Brianne, so only she can see how those words really affect him. She squeezes his arm and he rolls his eyes, trying to brush off how heavy a blow that really was._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Come on, _amicus _. Let’s get you back inside.”__

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“No, I’m fine,” she insists. “I just want to go to bed.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“You need to heal first,” her friend says, his tone brooking no argument._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“Do it for us, Rosie. We’ll sleep better after fussing over you for a minute,” Varric tries. He knows her well enough to know what to say in order to convince her to do something. She lets them lead her back to the tavern, but instead of reclaiming their seats, they march her upstairs to Cole’s loft, with Sera muttering the entire time about where she’s going to be shoving her arrows if she ever sees that man again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________Brianne settles into a chair with Dorian in front of her and Cal to her right. Cole stands in the corner where he can always be found, and Sera hops on top of the railing and balances there. The Iron Bull and Varric have vanished, and Brianne wonders if they’ve taken up guard positions down below on the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________Dorian wipes gently at the blood on her face and asks, “Can you tell us what happened now?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“I was walking back to the infirmary and he surprised me. Came up behind me and grabbed me. Drug me over to the corner and started saying those things. He got angry and...struck. I don’t know how it stopped.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“I heard you,” Cole says. Brianne doesn’t point out that she wasn’t making any noise. She knows what Cole means._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“Why didn’t you do something?” Cal asks, causing everyone in the room to turn their sharp, angry gazes at him. “What?” he says meekly, shoulders pulling tight towards his ears._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“I…” Brianne starts before Dorian interrupts her with an order to not answer that ridiculous question._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“She shouldn’t uv had to do anythin’,” Sera grumbles, throwing in more insults about posh, idiot jack-a-boots never having to deal with these kinds of things._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“He’s right,” Brianne admits to her childhood friend. Immediately, everyone else in the room begins to object that no, she should not have had to fight back against an attacker, at night, in the middle of Skyhold’s courtyard. Brianne ignores them to clarify, “The man from Redcliffe. He’s right. You should know that, when you speak to him.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________“How is he right?” Cal asks calmly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________Brianne turns to Dorian now, whether for support or opposition she’s not certain. “We ran. People were dying in front of us, and we left the village. We ignored it all in favor of running and hiding.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Remind me where we were going, again, _amicus _. Ah, that’s right,” Dorian snaps his fingers dramatically, as though he’s actually remembered something he’s forgotten. “It was Haven. We weren’t scurrying away like terrified insects, we were headed towards more danger. To get help. What would you have done instead? Saved every injured soul on the King’s road throughout the length of the Hinterlands? At best we would have arrived at Haven late, and it would have all been for naught. At worst, we would have never made it out of Redcliffe. Would you have done that to Felix, Brianne? Thrown away his sacrifice like yesterday’s garbage?”__

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Dorian’s expression has turned hard, and Cal sits back, startled. Looking between the two of them, he asks, “Who’s Felix?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Dorian raises his hand in a motion that usually means ‘stop.’ Still looking at Brianne, he challenges, “You cannot believe that you actually are in the wrong, here. That pathetic, excuse of a man attacked you because he was angry at the world, and he saw an opportunity to vent his anger. Nothing more.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Brianne doesn’t respond. She lowers her eyes in an attempt to keep her tears in check. There’s nothing she can say that won’t give away what she’s thinking. With Dorian sitting right there, championing her innocence, her thoughts would lead to a catastrophic confrontation that she doesn’t have the energy to deal with right now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Unfortunately, Cole is still in the room. Well, they have taken over his space, haven’t they? The spirit moves in a way that grabs everyone’s attention, before he begins spouting off the thoughts circling like vultures in Brianne’s head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Warmth giving way to ice. What did I do to earn these friends? They don’t know, can never know. He called me a monster because he saw what they didn’t. The blood feels good on my face, painted red like roses. Let it dry and mark me a monster, for danger lies nearby. It stains deeper than skin, than soul. Empty eyes are watching, empty bodies burn for me. Always for me…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Brianne muffles a pained cry against the back of her hand as her heart breaks apart into a million, tiny pieces in the loft of The Herald’s Rest. She bends at the waist, covering her face with her hands and forearms. Her sobs shake her frame. Dorian, Cal, and Sera’s words and soft touches are unable to break through to her. Even Varric comes up the stairs to ask what’s wrong and to try and soothe her. Nothing works._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________She isn’t sure how long she sits there, but heavy footsteps and the slam of a door reach her consciousness. She looks up from her hands to see Cullen come to a quick stop inside the room, with Cole following behind him through the door that connects the lower ramparts to the tavern. Cole looks at her sadly and notes, “A handful of kindness belongs to you too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________That sets Brianne off again, this time with memories of her father swimming through her mind. She hears Varric order everyone out, and feels their retreating footsteps. Caldwell protests, and she thinks it’s Dorian that finally drags him down the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________She’s corrected when someone shifts the vacated chair next to her and sits down. Not everyone left. Brianne peers through damp fingers enough to recognize that Cullen is the one who stayed. Anger is slowing taking the place of shame and guilt. She needs to get it together. She can’t be breaking down like this, especially not in front of the Commander._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Repentance through duty. Redemption through service. She takes several deep, shuddering breaths and begins to wipe her face with the corner of her sleeve. Cullen clears his throat and asks, “So who should I be throwing off the side of the Undercroft?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Brianne forgets about how she looks and feels for a moment to stare at him with her mouth open in a silent o. “You...you can’t do that, Commander!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Cullen grins sheepishly and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, but doesn’t take it back. His expression makes him look a decade younger, and Brianne is once again struck by how beautiful he is, scars and flaws and all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“The Inquisitor handled it,” she assures him, returning to cleaning off the snot and blood covering her mouth and chin. “He had the man taken to the cells for the night. Cal will finish dealing with it tomorrow.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Who was it?” Cullen asks. He leans forward in the chair, bracing his palms against his knees. The motion causes his shirt to gape open, and Brianne becomes instantly aware of what he’s wearing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Cole must have woken him up. He’s wearing the boots he always does, but his breeches are a lighter color than she’s ever seen, and they look incredibly soft. His tunic looks gray in the dark lighting, and he’s left it untucked and untied. She can see down the deep vee of the shirt to the muscles along his chest and abdomen. She feels her body catch on fire with equal parts desire and embarrassment as she snaps her eyes back up to his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Cullen’s smile has turned from sheepish to smug, and he doesn’t even attempt to cover himself. Brianne has never seen that look on his face before, and it’s unfair how it ratchets up his attractiveness. She’s a mess right now. It’s not the ideal time for flirting. Plus, they still need to talk about what happened earlier today in his office._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____

______________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“It was one of the refugees from Ferelden that arrived last night,” Brianne returns to his question to center herself. “He was in Redcliffe with his family when the Venatori attacked the village. He recognized me.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________“Did he think you were one of them?” Cullen asks, eyes clouded over with confusion. He takes up the damp rag Dorian left on the table and takes over cleaning off her face. If she had more energy and willpower she’d stop him, but his touch is so soothing, she allows it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________“No. He…” Brianne has to take a breath to compose herself, lest she start crying again. “He recognized me and Dorian. I was in the village often, and Dorian was staying at the inn. He was angry because we ran when the attack happened.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________“Of course you’d run,” Cullen says, as if it’s the most common sense thing in the world. “Everyone should have run.” He drags the rag softly under her eyes, causing them to close for a moment._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________“He said he heard about what happened at Haven. The attack there, and what I did to help. It made him angry. He thought I should have helped stepping in like that at Redcliffe. More people would have survived, or made it out.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________The Commander makes a noise that’s just shy of a growl, and Brianne’s insides liquefy further. So inappropriate, her reactions to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________“I’m sorry that…” Cullen stops abruptly and throws the rag onto the table. It makes a loud, wet slap, making Brianne jump. “It shouldn’t have happened. You should be safe here. Everyone should be safe here. I will speak with Leliana and Josephine tomorrow. Everyone that crosses the keep’s threshold should be vetted better. This won’t...I will not…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________“Cullen,” Brianne whispers, covering his hands with hers. “It’s not your fault. The refugees showed up without notice and couldn’t be turned away to wait while you checked their credentials. Besides, his anger isn’t completely unwarranted.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________His hands clench around hers before he pulls away. Her heart throbs in pain for a second before he scoots his chair even closer to hers. Their knees brush and he cups her face in his hands. His thumbs brush across the swell of her cheeks, and she goes still, savoring his closeness. “Cassandra says I have a habit of carrying around guilt that does not belong to me. It seems as though the habit’s contagious. Nothing that happened in Redcliffe is your fault. No one should be allowed to lash out at you for any reason, be it anger or grief.” Cullen’s hands stay put, but his eyes lower to Brianne’s lap. “Especially me. I’m sorry about this afternoon, when you came to see me. I didn’t mean to...I was just so…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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________________Brianne rests her hands over his again, her thumbs pressing slightly to the inside of his wrists. “Have you ever been somewhere, doing something, and all of a sudden you’re reminded of something else. Something that scares you? Or makes you mad?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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He nods his head up and down once, slowly. “That’s why I left so fast. It wasn’t you. I wasn’t...mad, or scared of you. You just reminded me of something...unpleasant. But not _you _. Does that make sense?”__

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_________________He nods again, and Brianne breathes in through her nose harshly. “My mother..she was in the Order: Knight-Captain Eduards of Ostwick. When we were traveling, it was difficult for her to get her hands on lyrium to make her philter.” Cullen’s eye widen marginally, the implications of the statement clear. “By the end, she was so angry. She’d lash out at anything that startled her. I was reminded of that, and also that I haven’t been doing enough to help you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________She tries to turn her face away, wanting to wallow for a moment in shame, but he won’t let her. “Nonsense,” Cullen insists, his eyes bright and burning into her as she tries to avoid his eyes. “You’ve done…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“I’ve managed your symptoms, yes. But that’s it! No research, no...practical applications of theories. I haven’t helped like I…”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________He’s tugging her forward and his lips are on hers before she knows what’s happening. She makes an horrified squeak, acutely aware that she’s filthy and bloody and the bottom of her lip is cut open. A thrill shoots through her, underneath all that, and she reaches out to grab a firstful of Cullen’s tunic as he pulls away quickly after hearing the noise she makes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“I’m sorry...that was just...you were…I shouldn’t have...” He fumbles while she raises her left hand to her lip, forcing it to heal as quickly as it can. She doesn’t look at him, only focusing on healing herself and the feeling of the coarse curls of his chest hair underneath her palm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“You didn’t just want to shut me up, did you Commander?” she can’t help but tease._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“What? No...” Cullen looks at her lips when she moves her hand away, understanding dawning in his expression._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“Good.” Now she’s tugging him forward, a bit too forcefully it seems, as he has to catch himself on the armrests of her chair. Hungry lips meet again, and although she’s burning like a Satinalia candle, it’s the sweetest, gentlest, most earnest kiss she’s ever experienced._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________It lasts until her head is spinning from lack of air and her hands start to tremble at the collar of his tunic. He takes a hold of hers to steady them as he pulls back marginally, a dazed and exuberant look upon his face. “That was...really nice,” he comments, immediately blushing scarlet and closing his eyes. Her laugh is a bit manic as he chastises, “Maker, I’m an idiot.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“I think we can do better than ‘really nice’,” she purrs, boldly moving from her chair to lounge across his lap, her arms circling around his neck. She’s still slightly intoxicated, and head over heels in love. She doesn’t want to admit to either of those things out loud though, so she kisses him again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________Or tries to. He turns his head at the last moment, causing her to only graze his lips with hers. “Wait,” he asks, clenching the hand that rests on her hip. He shifts in the chair and threads the fingers of his other hand through her loosened braid. “Are you alright? I don’t want to...you were hurt, and upset, and I…” he trails off as he rest his forehead against hers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“You aren’t taking advantage of me,” she guesses at his worry._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“I won’t take advantage of you,” he promises. “Never. You need to tell me if I do, or start to. You will stop me, or help me realize...won’t you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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_________________“Yes,” she breathes against his cheek. Then he kisses her again, helps her to stand, and laces their fingers together as he leads her down the stairs to the lower level of the tavern where their friends are waiting for them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Lightning Shall Rain (Part 1 of the last memory for this section).


	28. Lightning Shall Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the last dream-memory for this work: the events leading up to the end of the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Field and forest shall burn,  
> The seas shall rise and devour them,  
> The wind shall tear their nations  
> From the face of the earth,  
> Lightning shall rain down from the sky,  
> They shall cry out to their false gods,  
> And find silence.  
> \--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 7:19

Redcliffe’s apothecary is an ass.

Normally, Brianne goes out of her way to avoid talking with people. Even the simplest of conversations leads to questions about where her mother or father is, and what is she doing wandering around alone? She always has a quick answer ready, but it’s irritating. She then has to keep track of what she’s said to whom, so that if she runs into them again they won’t catch her in her lies.

It’s exhausting.

Especially when dealing with the apothecary. No one wants to buy the salves and tinctures she makes back at camp. Fereldens are a wary, distrustful breed of people (almost as bad as the Dalish, if anyone asks her opinion). Brianne and her mother have been haunting the area surrounding Lake Calenhad for almost two years now, so no one bats an eyelash when either of them come into town. 

That doesn’t mean the villagers trust Brianne enough to buy her products. She’s stuck selling her goods to the apothecary, who barely gives her enough coin to be worth the effort, then turns around and sells her items for triple what he bought them for. 

The dirty, hug-humping bastard. 

Brianne picks her way through the man’s shop, which is in a constant state of disarray. She’s certain he does this on purpose. It forces customers to come to him for help in finding things. He can then try to talk them into buying a completely different item, one much more expensive, that they might not really need. Brianne has walked out on him before, determined to search more carefully for deep mushrooms that she’ll powder herself, thank you very much, rather than listen to him insist that what she really needs is a vial of essence of crystal grace.

“Why hello little duck. What brings you in today?” the apothecary calls to her from the back corner of the room, his figure hidden behind a tower of wooden crates that look as though a strong breeze might topple it over.

“Gil,” Brianne greets in return, not wanting to be more civil than that, but knowing she needs to be. She mentally braces herself for the condescending “little duck” remarks, along with the verbal battle she’s about to wage for every coin she deserves, but invariably won’t get.

She haggles for all she’s worth. The apothecary’s stained fingers fiddle with his tunic sleeves. His eyes never truly meet hers as he continues stocking his shelves, showing her that she’s not worth his full attention. She leaves half an hour later, hip pouch empty of all but one potion, and coin purse full of a single gold coin and two silvers.

Brianne turns to follow the road that leads to the market square, but stops when she hears the laughter and shouts from the tavern’s open doors and windows. She fingers her coin pouch and bites her lip, considering her options. When she left camp this morning, her mother had grabbed her wrist and ordered her to get something nice for herself in town. 

“We missed your birthday again, Annie,” her mother had said, tired eyes barely staying open to look at her. “Time’s funny out in the woods, huh? Sell your potions, get what we need, and for Andraste’s sake, get yourself something. Come back and we’ll celebrate.” She had left Annika with that promise. Her mother had curled closer to the fire, taking advantage of the fatigue to hopefully have a nightmare-free nap.

Brianne is completely okay with lying to her. She isn’t sure when she began to feel that way, but she does. She had decided to spend whatever she earned on food and goods for the camp. Brianne doesn’t need a 10th birthday present. There’s nothing special about that age. She’d rather have more grain and sugar so she doesn’t have to come back to town for a while. 

The sounds and smells from the tavern are tempting, though. Brianne’s mouth waters as she imagines freshly made venison stew, a cup of hot cider, and a fluffy roll of bread. She’s shaken out of her food-trance by the lancing pain that accompanies the wish that her mother was with her. It steals her resolve, and she turns her back on the tavern and continues on her way.

The pack slung over her shoulder is full after making her purchases, and it slows her return to camp. She sends a quick prayer to the Maker in thanks for the kinder souls of Redcliffe’s merchants, and asks, as she always does, for the apothecary to fall ill with some kind of pox. The Maker can take his pick as to what kind. She isn’t choosy. 

Brianne isn’t too concerned by the slow pace, knowing that if it darkens earlier than normal, she will still get back to camp alright. She knows these footpaths and deer trails by heart. If worst comes to worst, she knows a safe hollow to hide in. If her mother is feeling better, she’ll know to look for her daughter there. 

Two figures shift into being from the shadows in between trees, startling Brianne with their soundless approach. She huffs out a nervous laugh and shifts her pack, continuing forward to meet the two elves standing in the path ahead.

“Hello shem,” Telethorn greets. His bow is still in hand, but his grip is relaxed as he lets it dangle at his side. His companion, Orawen, sheathes her bow at her back and reaches out to shake Brianne’s hand in a distinctly human gesture. 

She’s always been much friendlier than her partner, going out of her way to barter with Brianne, and put in a good word for the travelling family with her clan. Telethorn begrudgingly puts up with Annika and her daughter, making sure that every time the hunting party runs into the two humans to vocally chastise them for stealing game that belongs to his clan. Luckily, none of the others seem to mind the two friendly, reclusive women that live in the hills alongside the Dalish clan. 

“Do you need help, _d’alen _?” Orawen asks, trying to take Brianne’s pack before she can even respond.__

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__“Thank you, but I’m fine.” Brianne’s insistence is ignored. The elf manages to slip the bag from Brianne’s shoulder down to the crook of the girl’s elbow, and tugs on it so that she’ll relinquish it. Brianne can see Telethorn scowling at them, and she vindictively lets go of the bag in favor of irritating him more._ _

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__Orawen falls into step beside her with Telethorn trailing behind. They make small talk, commenting on the weather, traffic along the King’s Road, and the kinds of game in flux this season. They reach the edge of Brianne’s camp and she stops them from entering. Taking her bag back from the female elf, she thanks them for the escort, and reaches for the leftover potion in her hip pouch._ _

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__Orawen doesn’t want to take it, puffing up in indignation (as though Brianne’s paying her for her kindness). Telethorn reaches in between the women to take the potion for himself, winking at Orawen and murmuring something about never missing an opportunity to take from a shemlin._ _

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__An arrow cuts through the empty air in between Telthorn and Brianne, causing the girl to gasp and the elf to spin away, notching his own arrow as he finishes his turn. Orwen draws a dagger, but lowers it when Annika comes crashing through the foliage._ _

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__Brianne’s heart plummets to the bottom of her stomach when she sees her mother. Annika’s eyes are bloodshot. The area surrounding them is so bruised and sunken in, it almost seems as though she has two matching black eyes. The muscle along her jaw is twitching, and her hands shake as she raises her bow again to take aim at the intruders._ _

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__Her mother’s in one of her states. This is bad. Brianne needs to get the elves away from here as quickly as she can._ _

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__“Back away,” her mother hisses, aiming her arrow at Telethorn. Brianne doesn’t think she’ll hit him with how heavily she’s shaking, but the first arrow came close enough that she might. “Annie, get away from them,” Annika orders._ _

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__“Okay, Mama,” Brianne placates, right as Telethorn exclaims, “What is wrong with you, shem?”_ _

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__“Annika,” Orawen cuts in, soothingly. “What is the matter? That is Telethorn. Do you not recognize him?” The elf begins to follow after Brianne as she walks towards her mother. Annika snarls, resighting her arrow at Orawen. That causes Telethorn to shout at Annika to lower her bow as he pulls farther back on his notched arrow._ _

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__Brianne needs to get this under control. Now._ _

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__“It’s okay, Mama. I’m here. Let’s go back to camp. The nice visitors are going to go away.” Brianne looks over her shoulder at Orawen, hoping she understands._ _

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__She doesn’t. She stops following Brianne, and raises her hands above her head in the universal sign of surrender, but keeps on talking to Annika. “Are you unwell? Were you attacked? We can help, if you have need.”_ _

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__The offer causes Telethorn to declare that he won’t help crazy shemlin that shoot at him, and that Annika’s lucky she isn’t dead at his feet right now. Her mother turns her bow back on him, yelling that the filthy Rabbits have five seconds to get away from her daughter and campsite before they regret it._ _

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__Never in Brianne’s existence has she heard her mother use that slur before. Annika has always respected and honored the Dalish they’ve encountered. It shocks Brianne so thoroughly that she stops walking in favor of gaping in horror at her withdrawal-addled mother._ _

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__She’s within an arm’s distance of Annika by now, so all her mother has to do is take a step forward, latch onto her daughter’s wrist and haul her towards the treeline, lowering her bow in the process. Brianne makes a noise of pain at the rough treatment, repeating her mother’s name to try and get through to her. Orawen shouts as well, and begins approaching again, demanding that Annika unhand her daughter and start acting civil._ _

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__“Stop!” Brianne begs, both to her mother and sometimes-friend. Neither woman listens. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. Let’s just go back to what we were doing.”_ _

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“Come with me, _d’alen _. Your mother is not well."__

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____“YOU WILL NOT TAKE HER FROM ME!” Annika screeches as she launches herself at the elf in front of her._ _ _ _

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____Brianne and Telethorn share a momentary look of panic before springing into action. Telethorn aims at the mass of grappling women, waiting for the right moment to shoot without hitting his partner. Brianne babbles to both women, pleading with them to stop and calm down. Everything will be okay if they just calm down. The elves will leave and everything will go back to normal. They just need to stop fighting and calm down._ _ _ _

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____Orawen takes a solid punch to the chest, and Brianne can sense her clavicle fracturing. She cries out in empathic pain at the same moment the elf does. Orawen drops to her knees, tears blurring her vision, and Brianne watches in slow motion as her mother draws out her boot dagger and pulls her elbow back in order to make as deep of a stab wound as she can._ _ _ _

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_Enough _, Brianne thinks, and everyone’s breath puffs cool from their lips as Annika’s feet become frozen to the ground, and Telethorn’s hands freeze to his bow to keep him from releasing the arrow aimed at Annika’s heart.__

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____Brianne holds the Winter’s Grasp long enough to help Orawen to her feet and hobble with her over to the other elf glaring at her murderously. She releases him and orders him to go back to his aravel, waving a healing spell over Orawen to numb the pain of traveling. He scoops up his partner and disappears into the trees without a second glance. Brianne hopes that he won’t bring the entire clan’s hunting party back with him for retribution._ _ _ _

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____She holds her mother in the spell a bit longer, hoping to buy the elves some time to retreat. Brianne can barely meet her mother’s gaze as she faces her. Annika’s haggard features are made sharper by the look of betrayal she levels at her daughter. Brianne finally lets the spell fade away, and walks back over to where she dropped the pack full of goods she bought in Redcliffe just a handful of hours ago._ _ _ _

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____“Look, Mama,” Brianne says, picking it up from the ground. “I got what we needed. I think I’m getting better at bargaining. I got a whole gold coin from Gil today.” Her mother doesn’t respond. She stands as though her limbs are numb, staring at her daughter in shock and dismay._ _ _ _

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____Brianne soldiers on in her attempt to redirect Annika’s attention. “I got sugar. We don’t need it, but you said get something nice. I wanted to share it. Let’s go back to the fire. I’ll use some when I cook the rest of the roots. They had candied carrots in Cumberland, remember? I’m sure they’ll taste okay. Come help.”_ _ _ _

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____Brianne reaches out as though to take one of her mother’s hands, but Annika flinches violently from her and takes a step backwards. Brianne goes still, hand frozen while outstretched, and looks her mother over to see what’s wrong. Was she injured in the fight? Is she mad that Brianne used her magic on her?_ _ _ _

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____“You’re not my daughter,” Annika whispers, just loud enough for Brianne to hear. She doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she stays where she is, not moving or speaking, in case her mother is still confused and about to lash out._ _ _ _

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____Which seems to be the wrong thing to do. Instead of explaining herself, Annika’s expression hardens and her stance widens. She crouches to pick up the dagger she dropped in surprise when Brianne cast her spell._ _ _ _

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“You’re not my daughter. She would _never _attack me.”__

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______“No! I didn’t...you hurt Orowen. You...you were going to kill her.”_ _ _ _ _ _

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______“How do you know that?” Annika challenges, fingers tightening on her weapon._ _ _ _ _ _

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______“I...saw it. In your eyes. You were gonna do it. You were gonna stab her so she died. I couldn’t…”_ _ _ _ _ _

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______“Demon reading my mind,” Annika hisses quietly, but loud enough to interrupt Brianne’s explanation._ _ _ _ _ _

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______Annika strikes as her daughter’s talking, lunging forward and swiping with her dagger. Brianne shouts and fade-steps away, but not quickly enough. When she materializes twenty feet away, a steady stream of blood runs down her arm from the deep slice that landed on the lower curve of her right shoulder._ _ _ _ _ _

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______“Mama, it’s me. Annie. I just didn’t want you to kill her!” she explains. Panic sets in when Annika’s only response is to growl and stalk towards her, sheathing her dagger and picking up the bow she had dropped earlier while fighting the elf._ _ _ _ _ _

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______Brianne’s only course is to run. She heads in the direction that Telethorn went, hoping that the Dalish will help her. Orowen had tried. Brianne fade-steps again when an arrow narrowly misses her, but skids to a halt when she hears her mother scream. Hiding behind a tree, Brianne peeks around to see her mother collapsed on the ground. Annika’s panting, with both hands clasped to her head. Rolling onto her side, her mother wretches several times, and Brianne comes out from hiding to approach her._ _ _ _ _ _

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______Annika wails, long and low, scattering birds from nearby trees. Brianne stops approaching when her mother picks up the dagger and throws it at her, the shot going laughingly wide. “Abomination!” Annika yells before rolling onto her knees and heaving laboriously._ _ _ _ _ _

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______The image of her mother, kneeling next a pile of her own sick, delirious and violent, snaps something into place in Brianne’s mind. She turns away from Annika and begins running towards the village._ _ _ _ _ _

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______All of this ends now. The running. The hiding. The scraping to get by day by week by month. This is Ferelden, not Ostwick. It has been over four year since they left. There’s a good chance that no one knows who they are on this side of The Waking Sea. Brianne will get help for her mother from The Chantry, and Brianne will go to the Circle. It’s not the perfect solution. It may even create more problems, but at least it’ll keep her mother alive._ _ _ _ _ _

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______Brianne can be brave and do this. Her mother saved her when she was helpless. She can do no less for Annika now._ _ _ _ _ _

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______The sun is beginning to set behind her as she reaches the outskirts of the village. Brianne’s never set foot in the Chantry before, but she knows exactly where it is. She only hopes that her mother doesn’t go too far into the forest so that Brianne can lead the templars back to her._ _ _ _ _ _

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Hawke comes to Skyhold. How much trouble can a Champion generate? Enough to engage Brianne's BAMF abilities, which a certain commander appreciates. (FINALLY some sexy times. Andraste preserves us all!)


	29. I Shall Embrace You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke picks a fight, Brianne ends it, and Cullen has a hard time following his own rules. (We finally earn that M rating.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have edited and rewritten this chapter since I first posted it on July 2nd. The events mainly stay the same, so if you don’t reread it, that’s fine. I added some info at the beginning, changed Brianne’s dressing down of Hawke into a softer lecture (and personal story from Kinloch), and I’ve added to what was said between Cullen & Brianne as they’re lying in bed.
> 
> When I first dreamed up this tavern scene, I had not played DA2 yet. I played Inquisition before I played DA2, so you all can guess who I killed off at Adamant. I’m sorry if you like Hawke, but I couldn’t have given two nugs about them in the past. I feel differently now, but that doesn’t change the fact that my scene doesn’t work if Hawke isn’t a major asswipe. Someone’s gotta be the bad guy, and in this scene, it’s Garret Hawke.

Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.  
In my arms lies Eternity.  
\--Canticle of Andraste, Andraste 14:11

Brianne is trying very hard not to let anyone know that she can sing. 

Maryden has started playing an Orlesian ballad, one that Brianne knows the melody to. With two tankards of ale in her belly, and a smiling Commander pressed warmly to her side, it’s taking every ounce of self-control she has not to hum along with the bard in the corner. The last time someone began singing along with Maryden, the bard (Andraste bless her kind-hearted soul) stopped playing until the unwilling soldier joined her in front of the tavern to perform the song together. Everyone had a good laugh, and there were no hard feelings, but Brianne knows that she couldn’t stomach singing in front of a room full of strangers. 

She tries to force the song into the background, choosing instead to focus on Captain Rylen’s jokes, Dorian’s teasing, and the feeling of Cullen’s leg pressed against hers under the table. It’s been several days since Cullen first kissed Brianne, hidden away as they were at the top of the tavern, and each one has led to Cullen growing bolder in his affections. They still don’t reach for each other in public yet, but the Commander always goes out of his way to touch her somehow when they’re in the same room. It’s almost a game they have: each of them finding seemingly innocuous ways to connect with one another. Brianne smiles to herself behind her cup of ale while hooking her foot around Cullen’s ankle underneath the table. His face doesn’t betray any recognition of her actions other than the smallest uptick of the corner of his lips. 

The voices filling The Herald’s Rest are abruptly cut off when the door flies open and crashes against the wall, causing a nearby plaque to topple off it’s wall-mount. Maryden, ever the professional, keeps playing, even over the loud murmurs that rise up as the man that threw open the door comes sauntering into the tavern and pauses a few steps in, gazing lazily about the room. 

Brianne feels Cullen go still next to her, almost at the same time that Rylen exclaims, “Andraste’s tits!” and straightens in his seat, straining to get a better look at the newcomer. “Is tha’ who I think it is, Commander?”

The entire tavern is doing the same as Rylen, straining and staring and whispering as the man grins at them all and slowly makes his way towards Cabot. Brianne hears snatches of conversations, people insisting, “I knew I saw him! I told you I had,” along with, “He doesn’t look like he’s aged a day,” and most interestingly, “I wonder if the Champion’s brought any of his friends? I’d give a month’s stipend to see how far the elf’s tattoos reach.”

Cullen takes a long pull from his tankard and hunches his shoulders. It’s such an uncharacteristic look for him that Brianne immediately abandons her thoughts and asks him, “Are you alright?” 

Rylen laughs and Dorian frowns at the man. “Aye, lass. The Commander’ll be fine. As long as he doesna try ta talk to The Champion. They didna get along well in Kirkwall.”

“The man’s an insufferable ass,” Cullen says petulantly, staring into the bottom of his tankard. Dorian and Rylen burst into laughter, and even Brianne can’t help the giggle that escapes. Cullen’s frown deepens, but his lips purse in a way that Brianne has learned to mean he’s fighting back a smile. 

For a while it seems as though Cullen is in the clear. He keeps his back to The Champion, who has taken up a seat at the bar and has allowed a swarm of adoring fans to congregate around him. Brianne sneaks several long looks at the man that, “Single-handedly diverted the crisis at Kirkwall,” as someone in the crowd puts it. 

Brianne's final assessment is this: he’s really not that remarkable when simply looked at. He’s of average height and average build, although much of his figure is hidden underneath bulky, winter traveling clothes. His features are strong, especially his nose, accented as it is with that ridiculous red paint streak. He doesn’t have his staff with him, and she wonders vaguely where it is. 

The Champion catches her gaze and smirks at her, all the while continuing whatever conversation he’s having. Brianne’s embarrassed to be caught staring, so she turns back to the men at her table. Dorian is keeping Cullen distracted with stories from the Circle tower in Vyrantium. Captain Rylen’s riveted as well, so Brianne is the only one who hears the first shout of, “Rutherford!”

The voice is deep and masculine, causing goosebumps to rise and cover her arms. The person calls out again, and this time the whole tavern dims. Brianne’s stomach drops as she turns with Cullen towards The Champion, who’s sporting a look of immense glee. 

“Ser Rutherford,” he greets, and there’s a mocking edge to it. 

“Hawke,” Cullen intones while dipping his head once. Brianne is proud that his shoulders and head are high, and he doesn’t look away from The Champion’s piercing stare. 

“It’s Commander Rutherford now, Champion,” Rylen corrects. “Nun of us are templars anymore. Well, nun in Inquisition ranks, ‘a least. Haven't ya heard?”

“Oh yes,” The Champion drawls as he leans back against the bar top. “I’ve heard many things about what the great Herald of Andraste, mighty leader of the Inquisition has been up to. Tales of His Worship's deeds have spread across the whole of Thedas. I have trembled in my bedroll at night while ruminate on the greatness that has befallen both the faithful and the blasphemous.”

The Champion of Kirkwall is making fun of Caldwell. Brianne is stupefied. She had heard that Garret Hawke was a ne'er-do-well. A hopeless flirt. An irreverent bastard. She had let the stories float in through one ear and out the other, mainly because they sounded so much like Cal. And Dorian. Never in her wildest dreams did she think The Champion would saunter into Skyhold and start passive aggressively belittling the Inquisitor.

Cullen makes as though to stand, but stops himself at the last moment. He takes a deep breath and replies, “We are glad you are here. The Inquisition welcomes any and all help in the fight against Corypheus.”

Hawke’s eyes narrow dangerously, but surprises her by throwing his head back and laughing. It’s a hollow sound that raises the fine hairs at the back of her neck. 

“Oh Curly,” he says, dramatically wiping away a nonexistent tear. “I’m not here to help you. I, of course,” Hawks reassures, turning slightly to face his queue of fans, “...am here to help. But not you. Not your templars. The world has seen what happens when templars are given the power and resources they need in order to _keep the peace_.” Hawke practically spits the last words, and instead of defending his old order, Cullen merely grits his teeth and lowers his eyes. 

It’s this sign of submission that has Brianne seeing red. The whole of the tavern is quiet while watching the two men speak. Even Maryden has stopped playing. Brianne understands that Cullen is in a tough position. He cannot risk offending The Champion in case it will cause him to leave. Cullen was right to say that they need all the help they can get, but at what cost? Cullen’s reputation, and by proxy the reputation of the Inquisition’s militia, is at stake by the Commander allowing someone to speak to him this way. 

For the first time ever, Brianne wishes Madame de Fer frequented the tavern. She would know how to navigate this sinkhole with graceful effortlessness. 

Hawke laughs again, this time in self-satisfaction. “Where are the mages, Ser Rutherford? I took a tour through the barracks and didn’t see any. Neither are they at the surgeon’s camp. Where might you be hiding them?”

“No one is hidden,” Cullen insists. “They have their quarters in the tower adjacent to the stables. Requisitions is working on gathering materials for a healer’s wing. Many of the mages that joined are not fighters, so they will be employed there, under the guidance of Mistress Lochland.” Cullen has taken to calling her that recently. She keeps forgetting to ask him why he’s dropped her title of Enchanter, other than because it is what Josephine has taken to calling her as well. 

“Ah, and what are the qualifications of this non-mage to be ‘guiding’ these mages? Another former templar perhaps? Will the mages be allowed to exit the tower, oh, I mean the ‘wing’ at all, or will they be gently ‘guided’ back inside?” 

Brianne sees the opening and takes it. Gathering the empty tankards at her table, she stands and begins to weave her way towards Cabot. She’s level with the fireplace when she looks at Hawke and asks, “Champion, are you cold? You have so many layers on for someone Ferelden born. Dorian? How about you? Are you chilled at all?”

Thank the Maker for best friends that are well versed in causing scenes. Without missing a beat, Dorian replies, “You know me so well, Mistress Lochland. So long as I am this far south of The Silent Plains, I am in constant peril of freezing my mustache off. Be a dear and do something about that fire, would you?” 

Brianne shifts all four tankards into the cradle of one arm and throws her other out towards the fireplace. There’s nothing wrong with the fire already crackling away in it. Cabot somehow makes sure it’s always lit even though Brianne’s never seen him step a single foot in front of the bar before. The medium-sized fire erupts into a tower of flames before lowering a touch. Maryden smiles and claps, which causes several quiet cheers and mugs raised to Brianne as she finishes walking over to Cabot and returning the empty tankards. 

“You done for the night, Mistress?” Cabot grumbles, though there’s a sparkle in his eyes. 

“I believe so. Wonderful ale, as always, ser.” 

“Go set someone else’s tavern on fire,” he orders, shooing her away. Smiling, she turns to go back to her table and almost runs into someone standing directly behind her. 

“That wasn’t half as impressive as you thought it would be, but I got the message,” The Champion says, staring down his long nose at her. “I take it you’re Circle-born, what with that meager display of Destruction magic. Of course Rutherford would choose you to be their jailor.”

Brianne smiles thinly and curtsies. “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Champion. I have heard so many wonderful things from Messere Tethras. I hope you enjoy your stay at Skyhold.” 

The Champion makes a noise at the back of his throat and wrinkles his nose as though he’s smelled something foul. “Look at you. This is what I am talking about. Years of simpering and submitting are ingrained in all of you. You can’t overcome that in a day. Or a month. You need help. You need independence, not to be transferred to another kind of prison.”

Brianne wonders where Hawke has been for the last two years. What has he been doing? He speaks as though he doesn’t know that the Circles have been disbanded, but he must.

“Brianne,” Dorian calls out, and she turns to see her group making their way towards her. Cullen looks the most concerned, and is moving faster than Dorian and Rylen to reach her. 

“Curly’s so upset I’m talking to you,” Hawke notes with a smirk on his lips. “So worried I’ll unshackle you with common decency and a sense of self-worth. Hurry little templar, before I corrupt your puppet into not listening to you.”

Brianne has had it with this smarmy little shit. Secure in the knowledge that Cal won’t execute her if she pisses off The Champion of Kirkwall, she starts in on her lecture. “Messere, I know that I wasn't in Kirkwall to witness the atrocities committed there…”

“Committed everywhere. At every Circle,” he interrupts. 

“...but Commander Cullen is not a templar anymore. The Circles are gone, and we all must move forward. Together. I ask that you would treat the Commander, all of the ex-templars, and all of the mages here with the respect they deserve…”

“Respect!” The Champion howls, slapping a hand on his thigh. Brianne’s friends reach her right as Hawke regains his composure. “Do you know what this man said to me in Kirkwall?” he asks, pointing at Cullen. 

“Hawke,” Cullen growls quietly, which only spurs the mage on. 

“He told me that mages weren’t people. We aren’t. Really. People. How is that for respect, Mistress Lochland?”

Brianne’s stomachs twists, especially when she sees Dorian take a step away from Cullen, a brief flash of hurt washing over the mage’s face before he composes himself. Brianne fights off her own anger at Hawke’s confession as images of melting flesh and the phantom smell of blood and lyrium permeate her senses. “As I said, I wasn’t there in Kirkwall to…”

“You weren’t, so maybe it’s time to stop speaking of things you know nothing about and follow along when your templar calls like a good little pup.” Hawke looks at Cullen when he says that, making it clear which templar he’s referring to. 

The bar had fallen silent a while ago, but now Brianne can practically hear the individual breaths of every person in the room. Her own heartbeat echoes loudly in her ears as she fights her instinctual response of lashing out at the horrible man in front of her, especially when she can see Cullen turning the most alarming shade of red she’s ever seen.

“Champion,” Brianne breathes calmly, “You are a mage?” 

Hawke throws his shoulders back even farther and smiles a devilish smile. “I am. The stories are correct: an apostate lived for nearly a decade in one of the Marches’ most populated cities, and never once was apprehended. An apostate became Champion of the people. An apostate…”

“You were born in Lothering, weren’t you? Due east of Ferelden’s Lake Calenhad?”

Hawke blinks at her for a moment, most likely perturbed at being interrupted. “Yes. My family lived there for…”

“Did you ever have the chance to visit Kinloch before migrating to Kirkwall?” Out of the corner of her eye she can see Dorian and Rylen’s matching expressions of confusion. She’s keeping her tone light and conversational, and Brianne forces herself to refocus on the Champion before she accidentally looks at Cullen and loses the nerve to continue.

Hawke pauses before answering, looking at her as though she’s gone a bit mad. The Champion, of course, has never been to Ferelden’s Circle. His mother and father sacrificed their happy lives in order to keep their magical children safe and out of the clutches of the corrupt Chantry. Has Mistress Lochland never read _Tale of the Champion_? Hawke would be able to get her a signed copy, if she so pleased.

Brianne nodded indulgently and continued, “I suppose I’m also trying to ask if you’ve ever met the Hero of Ferelden? You are related, are you not?”

“Yes. Ceridwen! First cousin on my mother’s side. I haven’t actually…”

“I’m sorry, messere,” Brianne interrupts again, swallowing down a vindictive grin. “That was a bit disingenuous of me to ask. I know Gwen very well, you see. We grew up in Kinloch together. She’s only a few years older, so we were kept in the same age-group. I remember the day she left…”

Brianne makes sure to turn slightly so that her back isn’t completely facing the rest of the tavern. She wants everyone to hear what she’s about to say. “She had just passed her Harrowing. The fastest one in a century, Irving said. Enchanters aren’t allowed to speak about what happens in their Harrowing, but we thought we could get Gwen to tell us. We were waiting for her by her bunk, and we pestered her for the rest of the day. I had to scrub two other apprentices’ chamber pots when I lost the bet that I would be able to get the truth from her.”

Brianne grimaces and chuckles quietly. She hears a few people laughing along with her. “By the end of the following day, she was gone. The Gray Warden let her pack a small bag before they left. I was in tears. She couldn’t leave me. How could my sister be leaving me?” She makes sure to pause and take a visibly shaky breath, as though the memory is causing her distress. “But it wasn’t just me having a fit next her to bunk. All of the apprentices in our age-group were there, either begging her to stay or to take them with her. She made sure to hug every single one of us before going.”

Brianne pauses again to stare wistfully out into her captivated audience. She makes sure to demonstratively shake herself, and she turns back to Hawke. “She had a message for us. Both parting wisdom and a warning. Do you know what it was?”

The Champion barks out a harsh laugh. “Something along the lines of, ‘Watch out for the templars. They’ll magically castrate you as soon as help you?’”

Hawke’s phrasing creates a small tide of aggressive whispers from their audience. Brianne waits until the tide recedes before continuing. “In a way, I suppose so. She said to us: ‘If ever you get scared, or if you’re hurt, or if you know that something bad is about to happen—go find Cullen. He will protect you.’”

Hawke’s smirk turns into a glower as the tavern bursts into whispers again. Brianne is reciting a mantra of don’tlookdon’tlookdon’tlook in order to keep herself focused. She can’t look at the Commander, or it’ll be all over, and she’s not even half finished yet.

“Do you know,” she says to Hawke, conspiratorially, “…that I didn’t even know which one Cullen was?” It’s a bald-faced lie, but no one will know. “None of us did! Gwen was the only apprentice brave enough to chat with the templars, let alone learn their names and befriend them. Can you imagine it? She gives us the name of a templar that will keep us safe, and then runs away before we have the chance to figure out which shiny plate of armor he is.”

“We finally figured it out. It took several days of eavesdropping around corners and behind bookcases, but we found him, and I almost thought it was a joke. He was fresh-faced from his Knighting, all blushes and stutters when any of us gathered up the courage to say good day. But do you know what, Garret?” The Champion’s eyes narrow when she drops his title, but if he’s going to act a child, then she’s going to talk to him like one.

“Gwen was right. Ser Rutherford kept us safe. I’m sure you know about the fall of the Tower during the Fifth Blight. I was settling down for an afternoon of reading when I heard the first of the screams. I went out into the hall to see what was wrong, and I was shoved back into the room. I was told to wait and hide until someone came to get me.”

“I didn’t listen. I waited until the screams got worse, and then went out again. Do you know who saved me from the demons prowling the hallways? Templars. The men and women I was terrified of drug me to safety. It took five of them. Five templars died to get a handful of children to the bottom level of the Tower. Five templars whose names I never learned.” Brianne has to pause again as a burning flash of self-loathing threatens to derail her speech. “To this day I’ve never learned who they were. I couldn’t send their families thanks, or money, or tell them of how their child fought to their dying breath to protect me. But that is my own regret. Do you know who was waiting for us at the bottom of the Tower? The Commander was there. Ser Rutherford, as you remember him. Except it’s apparent to me that we’ve met two very different men. Mine was nineteen and scared. He had watched templars older and more experienced be ripped to pieces by abominations. And do you know what he did?”

Brianne takes a moment, both for dramatic effect and because she’s started trembling, which she hopes goes unnoticed. “He organized the children, made sure we had an escape route, then _locked himself out._ Could you have done that, Garret? Stayed behind to die? To buy more time for the children to escape? Mage children, that you had been taught to fear. To hate. Could you?” She doesn’t really want him to answer, so she doesn’t give him time to. “I understand that the Knight-Captain you met in Kirkwall was vastly different from the templar that lived in the Tower with me, but that Knight-Captain came from him. He came from the brave, young man who sacrificed himself, only to be tortured for weeks. Weeks!” Brianne shouts, unable to help herself, and Hawke flinches marginally, although his face betrays nothing of what he’s thinking.

“Could you have walked out of there the same man? Can you not understand why he felt the way he did? Made the choices he did in Kirkwall? Mages failed him. They failed me. Mages like you,” Brianne stabs her finger at his chest once, for emphasis. “Mages that want change and are willing to use force. Mages that are scared and angry. Mages that feel they are better than everyone else. We have a duty that none others have. The Gray Wardens speak of vigilance, but that word is better suited for mages, don’t you think?”

Brianne takes a shaky breath, aware she’s about to accidentally change the subject. She steps forward into Hawke’s personal space and lowers her voice. Those standing nearby will be able to hear her words, but not the whole of the tavern anymore. “You are being purposefully ignorant, and it is shameful. I acknowledge your past with the Commander, and with templars in general, so I am choosing to be understanding and accepting of your behavior and attitude. But know this, Garret…”

Brianne leans so close to the man that she can feel the stubble on his chin as she tilts her head back to whisper to him. In a deathly serious voice, she says, “If I hear one more derogatory comment about the Commander of the Inquisition, or if I witness you disrespecting any mages, or harassing any ex-templars, you will be answering to me.”

The Champion is frozen for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing so hard his entire body shakes and he has to hold onto his side. The tension that had been building during her dressing down of The Champion fizzles out, and those seated in the tavern begin to smile and laugh along with Hawke, even though it’s clear they’re not sure what they’re laughing at. Brianne stays where she is, all the while smiling serenely, until Hawke looks at her again.

“You…” he’s barely getting his words out around his giggling, “…did you just threaten me?”

All of a sudden, Varric’s voice cuts through the noise of the drunken patrons as he calls out, “Don’t tell me I just missed one of Hawke’s jokes! He always finds himself funnier than he actually is. The best part is when he ruins the punchline with his laughing.”

They all turn to see both Varric and Cassandra in the open doorway. Varric's sporting a fresh black eye, but he waves Brianne off when she tries to approach him. “It’s okay, Rosie. I’m fine. You should see the other guy.” Cassandra snorts and steps aside to let her pass.

Brianne feels Dorian’s hand latch onto her bicep. As he drags her out of the tavern after the retreating figures of the Commander and Captain, she hears Hawke say, “Varric! That…that girl threatened me.”

“Uh huh, sure she did.”

“No, really! She…does she think she can actually hurt me? That… that glorified, Circle-dwelling, templar purse-dog!”

“What? Rosie? She’s a healer, Hawke. A badass one, at that. I thought you’d like her. Maybe remind you of what you’re fighting to keep safe.”

“Don’t even, for a second, try comparing her to…”

The door to the Herald’s Rest shuts loudly behind her as Dorian continues dragging Brianne away from The Champion of Kirkwall and towards where Cullen and Rylen are waiting for them a few feet ahead.

The pairs part ways in the middle of the courtyard. Brianne glares daggers at Dorian, silently threatening him in order to keep him from following Rylen back to his bunk. She’s not sure if Dorian and Cal have an understanding, but she doesn’t want him to accidentally (or purposefully) mess up the good thing that’s blossoming between them. Dorian either doesn’t notice or pretends not to, as he wishes Brianne and Cullen a good night and whisks Rylen away. 

Brianne meanders in the direction of the unfinished infirmary until Cullen catches her hand and pulls her back. 

She’s drawn into a deep hug, and Cullen’s breath tickles her forehead when he asks her to come with him to his room. She looks up in time to see a flush crawling up his neck. Even in the midst of embarrassment, his voice stays clear and firm as he tries to explain himself. 

“I think about you sleeping outside every night, and...while I understand, I feel that you...I mean you deserve to have what you want, and if that’s what you want, then it’s fine. But you also deserve a bed. A warm bed, away from the elements. You can have mine.” 

“Will you be in it as well?” she teases. 

“I...suppose?” It comes out as a question, which makes Brianne giggle like a vapid apprentice. He lets her out of his embrace and takes up her hand again. She allows herself to be led to his room, hand in hand for the entire journey. 

********************

A single candle illuminates Cullen’s office, which is just enough to see by when coupled with the moonlight spilling through the marred ceiling. Brianne takes a moment to enjoy the ambiance before Cullen leads her over to the ladder that she’ll have to climb to reach the bed. 

“Do you really climb this every night?”

“Is there another way to ascend ladders that I’ve not heard of?” Brianne laughs at his humor and turns so that she’s trapped with Cullen pressed to her front and the ladder at her back.

She watches in satisfaction as his eyes darken. She stretches onto her toes to place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “You must have deep reserves of stamina then, in order to get yourself up when you’re so tired.”

Cullen coughs violently and squeezes his eyes shut, as though her innuendoes pain him. Brianne laughs along and smacks his arm in mock indignation. “That was funny,” she insists. 

“It really wasn’t. And I’m afraid I don't. Every other night I fall asleep at my desk. Lately, on that couch as well,” he gestures to the space behind Brianne, and she turns to see a quaint chaise lounge tucked into the shadows of the loft’s overhang. 

“When did you get that?” she asks. 

“It was Josephine’s doing. A few days ago she caught me napping at my desk, and the next morning I woke to find that couch had appeared.”

“Our thoughtful ambassador,” Brianne says before she steps forward again to catch him in a soft kiss. When they break apart, Brianne whispers, “Are you coming up as well?” at the same time that Cullen says, “I’ll be down here if you need anything.” 

A beat of silence passes before it happens again. Brianne insists, “You can join me if you like,” while Cullen's stammers out, “I don’t want to impose…”

A longer stretch of silence occurs while they wait for the other person to say something. Cullen makes a quiet noise of frustration and explains, “I’ll join you, if you like, but...I don’t want you to think...there isn’t any expectation. Just sleep. In a warm bed.”

Brianne’s slightly crestfallen, but tries not to let it show. She can count on one hand the number of people she’s been intimate with, and she’d been hoping to add Cullen to that list. Not that this was about numbers. Or lists. Or anything other than being with the man she loves…

She cuts her thoughts off by scaling the ladder, which creaks ominously halfway up, scaring the daylights out of her. She can hear Cullen chucking at her, and she vows to get him back. 

Which she does by removing almost every article of clothing by the time he’s climbed the ladder. She can hear his sharp intake of breath as she climbs onto his bed, making sure to move as sinuously as possible. 

She kneels on the bed with her back to him as she takes down her hair. She takes her time unpinning and unraveling her braid, and she may or may not arch her back unnecessarily. 

Her prolonged display means she misses watching Cullen undress, as the second she’s crawled under the covers, he’s there as well. He leaves a small space in between them, but it doesn’t keep her from reaching out to see if he kept all of his clothes on, nor does it keep him from carding his fingers through her unbound hair over and over again as she explores his body with her hands. 

He’s wearing the same tunic he had on, though his pants feel different. They’re the soft leggings that she thinks he sleeps in, though she can’t really see them in the dim lighting. She’s distracted when his fingers catch in a tangle of her hair and he accidentally pulls on it. The sharp pleasure-pain spreads across her scalp and straight to her core. He starts to apologize before she cuts him off and he sees the expression on her face. Something dark and greedy surfaces in his eyes, and Brianne curls towards him in anticipation. 

With a shuddering breath he moves away from her. She makes a moue of disappointment, and is placated by Cullen resting his hand on the curve of her jaw. His thumb strokes the side of her face and both of them relax into the bed as the tension dissipates. 

Neither of them fall asleep, though. Cullen continues stroking her jaw as Brianne’s hands rest in the small chasm between their bodies. An eternity later, she finally asks, “What are you thinking about?”

“How sorry I am,” he answers without hesitation, causing Brianne’s body to stiffen. “No! Not about this,” he insists, curling his fingers behind her ear. “I meant about the past. I don’t…I don’t remember you…” he whispers the last part, as though it’s a shameful secret. “In Kinloch. I’ve been trying, but...it’s like you weren’t there. How can I not remember you?” 

“Cullen,” Brianne soothes, “You were only there for, what, two years? At most? I understand.”

“No. It’s not understandable. You’re...you. I trust you we're there. You know the Hero. Leliana recognized you. You know the details of...I don’t understand how I have no memory of a mage like you. It’s maddening. I want to remember you from there. I want…” 

He trails off, leaving Brianne unsure of how he was going to finish that thought. “You do realize I was only sixteen years old. I hadn’t completed my Harrowing. I’m sure you’ve changed drastically from when you were sixteen as well.” 

“No…well yes, but that’s not…” Brianne giggles at him and he tugs on her ear to quiet her. “You light up the room when you walk in. How could I have missed that?”

“Cullen, I…” Brianne isn’t sure what to say to that. She wasn’t aware that anyone, at any point in her life, had ever had cause to say something like that to her. “I was a mousy, wallflower of a teenager. I wanted to go unseen. Life was safer that way. I’m actually a bit proud you don’t remember me. Means I was protecting myself properly.”

Cullen makes a sorrowful sound and drags her closer to him. Brianne goes willingly, curling up against his side and resting her cheek in the dip below his left shoulder. His fingers card through her hair again, and she hums contentedly as she traces his collarbone through his tunic. 

“At least I wasn’t alone in my ignorance. Did it really take days to figure out which templar I was? Between all of the apprentices trying?”

Brianne snorts reflexively into Cullen’s chest, then mentally kicks herself at his questioning hum. She doesn’t respond, hoping he’ll drop the sub vocal question, but he doesn’t. He tilts his head awkwardly to look down at her, holding that position until she answers.

“No,” she finally says, and she hates how meek she sounds. 

“Oh? Did it take even longer?”

“I’ve always known who you were,” she whispers. The words come spilling out of her mouth, making her cringe at how cliché they sound, and holding more weight than she actually meant them to. Cullen’s hold on her tightens, but he doesn’t say anything in response, and the silence that blankets the room becomes uncomfortable.

Brianne clears her throat and changes the subject. “If we’re taking the time for confessions, then I’m sorry as well. I shouldn’t have spoken about Kinloch the way I did at the tavern. I don’t regret what I said to Ser High-And-Mighty,” she huffs, “But it was your past I aired, for everyone to hear. I should not have done that without permission. Forgive me.”

“No one has ever defended my honor like that, either. I don’t talk about what happened there, not because I’m ashamed, but…the nightmares are always worse when I’ve been dwelling on it.”

“I didn’t mean for…”

“No! No. It was…amazing, really. Everyone’s heard The Hero’s side of the story. The templars at Greenfell and Kirkwall assumed I had been captured either because I was a terrible templar or because I didn’t fight back.”

“You didn’t disabuse them of that thinking?” Brianne is shocked that Cullen wouldn’t have set them straight, while simultaneously realizing that of course he wouldn’t. Not if he felt that the censureship was his due, the infuriating man. 

She’s distracted from her seething by Cullen’s hand curling around her to rest an inch below the side of her breast. It trails a burning path along the skin below her thin tunic as it slides down the curve of her body to rest low on her hip. 

“What Hawke said was true. I did, at one point, feel that mages were less than human.”

Brianne wiggles a bit until her head it level with Cullen’s on the pillow. “Of course you did,” she states, matter-of-fact. “I meant what I said as well. We failed you. We were monsters.”

“ _You_ did not. Fail me, that is,” Cullen loudly insists into the quiet room, startling her with his vehemence.

Emboldened by the placement of his hand, Brianne moulds her body to his and grazes her teeth against his ear. “Charmer,” she purrs. 

Of all things, Cullen laughs. Not at her, she doesn’t think. It’s short and full of happiness, and it leads to him asking, “Is this a dream?” She’s certain the question is rhetorical, so her only response is to continue nibbling on his ear. “Are you sure you’re not a desire demon?” Cullen teases breathlessly, shocking Brianne with the wave of deja vu that overpowers her.

Before she can second-guess her instincts, she says, “And if I was? What would you ask of me?” 

Cullen’s face is bathed in moonlight, allowing Brianne to see every emotion shining through his eyes. Confusion. Shock. Comprehension. Fear. Wonder…

Fear? No no no. He cannot be afraid of her. She cannot lose him to Fear. Before she’s sure he’s ready, she captures his lips in hers and tries to speak all the words that are clogging her throat. 

_Please don’t be afraid. You’re safe with me. I will never hurt you. I love you I love you I love you._

Brianne’s heart drops when he pulls away from her, only for it to fly into her throat as Cullen surges up and grabs her, pulling her forwards and upwards as he shifts into a sitting position. She squeaks as he hugs her fiercely, and has little choice but to settle astride his lap in order to be comfortable. 

“You found me,” he whispers into the shell of her ear, and it takes a second for her to realize what he means. She’s distracted by the fact that Cullen’s thin pair of leggings and her small clothes are the only items separating her from what she’d really like right now. At least the soft cotton of the leggings feels nice against her bare thighs. 

“Oh. I...suppose I did,” she brings herself to say, and Cullen’s quiet chuckle makes her smile.

He kisses her this time, murmuring in between brushes of his lips that they need to speak more about this later. She wonders why they don’t talk about it now, that is until her mind blanks when Cullen’s teeth retraces his lip’s earlier path along her neck and shoulder. 

Brianne tries to summon the willpower to stop what they’re doing. She tries to remind herself that Cullen invited her into his bed strictly to sleep, but Andraste preserve her she wants this. She _needs_ this. She needs to hear the noises Cullen makes when she gently scrapes her nails down the back of his neck. She needs to feel the involuntary jerk of his hips as she nips at his bottom lip. She needs to see the deepening flush crest the top of his tunic and spread up this throat as he bares it for her searching lips. 

She’s almost cobbled together the control necessary to stop their heated make-out session, when Cullen discovers that she’s missing her breast band. (It’s been lying on the floor next to the bed this entire time, but Cullen must not have realized that since she’s still wearing her undertunic.) He makes a sound she’s never heard a person make before, and hastily tries to lift the shirt off of her. 

It’s almost as effective as a bucket of ice water. Brianne’s never been naked with a lover before. They’d see her scar. They’d ask about her scar. She’d have to tell them about her scar, as she’s always been a terrible liar. She can’t do it. Maybe she could, with Cullen, but not right now. 

Brianne grasps the bottom of her tunic to keep him from lifting it any farther. “Cullen, wait. I thought that…” 

Her protest is cut off by Cullen dropping the fabric, cupping her heavy breast in one hand, and sucking the aching nipple into his mouth, tunic and all. Brianne’s entire body spasms as the sensation shoots through her. 

She can feel Cullen’s smiling lips against her skin, even through the fabric. He suckles gently as his other hand moves to cup and soothe her other breast. Brianne hides a noise of pleasure behind closed lips, and Cullen rumbles his own displeasure. 

“Let me hear you, love,” he rasps, and returns to his task, adding the barest hint of teeth. 

It’s such a foreign concept to her, being loud while expressing pleasure, but Cullen makes it easy to comply. She can practically feel the masculine satisfaction rolling off of him every time she lets a shuddering gasp or sharp cry escape. 

Brianne digs her finger into his curls, and is rewarded with a sharp roll of his hips. She lets loose a joyous, gasping laugh when she feels the hot length of him press up into the cradle of her legs. Even covered in fabric, as they both are, the friction provided is enough to make her head spin. 

Drunk on pleasure and spurred by the deep groan the man below her makes, Brianne continues to rock her hips down into him. Cullen’s fingers clench and unclench at her chest and he makes a strangely wounded noise. “Cullen...” Brianne wines, adding a tiny twisting motion to her thrust. She isn’t sure precisely what she’s asking him to do, only that she needs him. Needs more. 

_Loveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou._

“Annie,” Cullen whispers into her collarbone, thumbs teasing her nipples while he thrusts up to meet her. He’s never shortened her name before, and it’s so broken and full of longing that she can’t…

Her thighs lock around his hips as her whole body erupts in ecstasy while her core clenches around an emptiness she feels keenly. Cullen falls still for half a heartbeat, possibly surprised by the loud cry that escaped her, or possibly unsure of what was happening, but he isn’t still for long. His lips find her breast again and his hands grasp her hips as he pulls her down to grind against him.

Through her euphoric haze she thinks he’s trying to prolong her pleasure, until she hears his own broken gasp and feels the uncontrollable trembling of his thigh muscles below her. She smiles a wide grin of self-satisfaction and waits for his grip to loosen from her hips. She slides off of him as gracefully as she can manage to settle in a boneless pile on the bed next to him. 

She’s never been one to fall asleep immediately after sex, but for some reason she can’t find the energy to open her eyes. She hears Cullen saying something to her, but she doesn’t understand what it is. She doesn’t really want to, if she’s being honest. His bed is so soft and comfortable. Brianne feels the mattress shift and is suddenly aware that Cullen’s gone. She’s as upset as she can muster at the moment, but calms when she hears him moving about the loft without descending the ladder. He’s back after what seems like only a few seconds, and he turns her so that her back is to his chest. He curls his body around hers and says something again that she can’t quite make out.

Brianne quickly drifts into the Fade, sated and happy, and ready for any dreams that may come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If we're taking the time for confessions, then..." this is the first smut scene I have ever written in my life. I was so scared. I hope it's good. I feel like it's pretty good, but who really knows? If it's terrible, help me out and leave a comment. I live for constructive criticism.
> 
> I got a lot of feedback about Hawke's reaction to Brianne when she's done lecturing him, but I like it ending with him laughing at her. Underestimate the Enchanter at your own peril, Hawke *throws head back and cackles like an evil Tevinter Magister* (Foreshadowing. What foreshadowing? Where?)


	30. The Light Eternal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ending of one story, and the beginning of another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “But for every one who stood and sang the hymn of praise,  
> Two lay at their feet, soul seeking the Light eternal.”  
> \--Canticle of Apotheosis, Apotheosis 1, The Aftermath of Valeria Fields
> 
> *Warning for violence and physical trauma, followed by a panic attack.

The towering, ornately carved doors of Redcliffe’s Chantry creak open loudly as Brianne pushes her weight against them. She doesn’t bother shutting them behind her, but rushes forward down the long, central aisle that leads to the pulpit.

There are a handful of villagers scattered throughout the pews, and in Brianne’s periphery she sees more stationed in front of the candles that are available for lighting. It’s quiet in the Chantry, even with the hushed whispers of individual prayers mingled with the recognizable words of the Chant of Light. Brianne’s reminded of Satinalia mornings spent with her mother and father at Ostwick’s Chantry, passing out gifts and hearty breakfasts for the city’s paupers. She remembers attending the ceremony every midnight before First Day, and watching her mother join the choir of Sisters that finish singing the final stanza of the final Canticle of the Chant of Light. 

She remember how her mother used to be, and it heightens Brianne’s urgency to find the Revered Mother.

Not wanting to cause a scene, Brianne stops at the first available Sister she sees. The woman is on her hands and knees while cleaning one of the pews a few rows down from the empty pulpit. She does not look up when Brianne stops next to her. Brianne has to clear her throat quietly and call out to her before she raises her head.

The woman looks annoyed. That’s not good. “I’m sorry, Sister, for interrupting you, but I need the Revered Mother.”

The Sister squints at Brianne and stares for a moment before rising off of her knees and setting her rag down. “Mother Hannah is busy. What do you need, child?”

“Is the Knight-Commander here?”

The Sister openly frowns at her. “No. Gregoir is never here. He lives at the Circle with his garrison. Why are you asking for such important people? What is going on?”

Brianne’s plan is falling apart, is what’s going on. She doesn’t know what to do if she can’t talk to the Revered Mother or Knight-Commander. She remembers from her lessons that they’re at the top of the hierarchy. She needs one of them to be okay with helping her mother. If they’re not, then even if Annika is saved from her withdrawals, she might be imprisoned or executed anyway. They will have to drag Brianne’s cold and lifeless body to the Circle if that happens. She’s only okay with going peacefully if her mother comes out of this alive. 

Brianne’s anxiety at trying to decide what to do has caused her hands to start shaking. Her mouth has been open this whole time, as though she’s been trying to answer the Sister’s question, but can’t. The woman’s expression softens a touch, and she makes a strange shushing sound that is in no way comforting. She ushers Brianne down the pew she had been in the middle of cleaning, leads her up and around the pulpit to the left, then finally stops in a large, open room with more candles and chairs. The Sister forces Brianne to sit and orders her to stay put before turning and walking away.

Brianne stays sitting for few minutes. She may as well catch her breath, gather her strength, and figure out what to do. She’s just about decided on a course of action when the Sister returns with another Sister and templar in tow. 

“Sister Monika tells me that you’re looking for the Knight-Commander?” the second Sister says by way of greeting. This Sister is older than Monika, and her smile is genuine and concerned. Monika hands Brianne a cup full of clear liquid. It’s just water, but Brianne hesitates before drinking it.

“Did you think it poisoned?” the new Sister asks, genuinely curious. Monika glowers at Brianne while the templar barks out a laugh.

“No. I…” Brianne trails off, unsure of what to say.

“Where are my manners? I am Sister Naloni. This is Knight-Lieutenant Isaac, and you’ve already met Sister Monika.”

“Are you alright, child?” the templar asks her. The way he uses the word _child_ isn’t as condescending as Sister Monika. He crouches down in front of Brianne. He has soft brown eyes and a kind face. Brianne decides to take a chance. How much worse could things get?

“I need help,” she whispers, making sure to look as pitiful as possible. “My mama’s in trouble. She’s sick, and I need help.”

The adults’ reactions are instantaneous and synchronized. Sister Monika throws her hands in the air and angrily demands, “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” while Sister Naloni exclaims, “Oh you poor dear. Of course we’ll help!” and Knight-Lieutenant Isaac asks, “Where is she, child? My men can bring her here and fetch the healer.” 

Brianne stands and hands Monika the cup of water, which the Sister takes with a scowl. “She’s in the forest. Our camp is there. South down the road, left past the windmill, and north to the clearing.” The Templar nods once to her and turns away, quickly disappearing in the direction Sister Monika had earlier. 

Brianne makes as though to follow him, but is cut off by the two Sister still in the room with her. “Why don’t you rest, my dear?” Naloni suggests, gesturing at the chair Brianne just vacated. “The Templars will find your mother. You can wait for her here.”

“No. I need to go with them.” Brianne forces her way past them, silently sending an apology to Andraste for being so disrespectful to her disciples. 

“Child, it’s getting dark. And it’s dangerous out there!” Sister Naloni calls to her as Brianne runs out of the room, around the pulpit, and down the smaller side aisle that leads to the exit. She’s almost to the door when Ser Isaac steps out of a side room and catches her up in his arms. Brianne freezes, rigid as a board in the man’s hold before he sets her down. She turns towards the door only to find that she’s surrounded on all sides by more templars. They stare at her with open curiosity as she turns back to their Knight-Lieutenant.

“I need to show you,” Brianne explains. 

“No, child. Stay here with the Sisters. Your directions were clear enough.” 

“I have to be with you. You don’t...I need to be there. She’ll get more upset if I’m not with you.” 

“When she’s feeling better, I’m sure she’ll be upset that we let you come with us, into the dangerous forest, in the dark. Stay here and wait for the healer. You should be here to tell her what’s wrong with your mother. I sent my fastest recruit to fetch her. She’s the best at what she does, so your mother will be in good hands.” Ser Isaac places a large hand on her shoulder and squeezes once, reassuringly, then motions to the other templars.

“No! She’s not just...she’s…” Brianne lunges and grabs up Ser Isaac’s hand in her two smaller ones. She grips it hard, as punishingly as her ten year-old body can. This is the moment of truth. Brianne has to tell them. They need to know what they’re walking into. “She was...she used to be…”

Knight-Lieutenant Isaac stares down at her in concern. “What is it, child?”

“She…she used to...where we came from, she was...like you.”

Ser Isaac waits, as though expecting her to say more. “Like...me?” 

He doesn’t understand. “Yes, like you. Now she’s sick.”

All of the templars are looking at her as though her brain’s been addled. Brianne breathes in the courage needed to say _exactly_ what she needs to say, but is interrupted before she can. 

“What is all this commotion about?” The question floats in on a new, feminine voice. All eyes turn to the woman approaching down the center aisle. The small crowd that has formed around Brianne and the templars scatters to make way for her. All the templars cross their arms at their chests and bow at the waist. All except Ser Isaac, that is, whose hand Brianne still has clutched in her death-grip.

“Your Reverence,” Ser Isaac greets. “This girl came in a short time ago, looking for…”

“Yes, Isaac. Naloni has told me what I need to know. Come here, my child.”

Brianne lets go of Ser Isaac’s hand and takes the one the Revered Mother offers her. The Mother leads her to the closest pew and sits, pulling Brianne down next to her. “What is your name?” she asks.

“Brianne.” Brianne doesn’t know where to look, so she stares at the golden sunburst embroidered onto the front of the woman’s dress.

“Hello, Brianne. What is your mother’s name?”

“Annika,” Brianne whispers.

“Where are you and your mother from?”

“We lived in Os...um...we’ve been living in lots of different places.”

Mother Hannah hums a wordless acknowledgement. “And what did you mean when you told Ser Isaac that your mother was like him?”

Brianne leans forward, and so does Mother Hannah. Straining her neck, Brianne whispers as close to the Mother’s ear as possible. “She was a templar.”

The Revered Mother’s eyes widen a fraction, but betray nothing else. She’s still holding one of Brianne’s hands, so Brianne squeezes it and continues. “We’ve been travelling for a long time. A _long_ time. And she’s sick. _Very_ sick.”

There’s a beat of silence while the Revered Mother processes the implications of what Brianne’s just said. Brianne sees her come to the right conclusion when the Mother’s mouth pops open in a small, silent O. The woman squeezes Brianne’s hand right back, lets go, then walks over to the Knight-Lieutenant. 

They huddle together, murmuring quietly, then break apart. Ser Isaac’s now wearing a thunderous expression as he turns to his templars and issues orders that Brianne can’t hear from where she’s sitting. All their faces change from curious to serious too quickly for Brianne’s comfort, and her stomach bottoms out in fear of what she’s done. When the group of templars open the Chantry doors to move out, Brianne attempts to follow them.

Two hands grab her arms to smash them at her sides and hold her in place. “Where do you think you’re going?” Sister Monika hisses.

“Let me go.” Brianne orders, eyes never leaving the templars.

“The Knight-Lieutenant ordered you to stay put, so you’re staying put.”

“Let me go,” Brianne repeats, louder this time. She did the wrong thing. She can feel it in her bones. She has to get to her mother before the templars do. This is all her fault, and she has to fix it. 

“Stop being so obstinate. You’ll only get in their way. Don’t go ruining the right decision with a wrong one.”

 _The right decision._ It’s as though Sister Monika’s dropped a large rock on Brianne’s chest. She can’t breathe. Her mind flashes back to the night she and her mother stayed outside of Markham, after Brianne saved that farm boy. Her mind flashes again to Ealga’s farm on the day they had to leave after healing Kristoff. Her mother’s voice whispers in her ear, _It was a good thing to do, Annie. A good thing, but not the right thing._

The _good_ thing is not always the _right_ thing.

“Maker,” Brianne sobs once, then begins thrashing in Monika’s grip. “Let me go!” she shouts, drawing the attention of everyone in the Chantry.

The Sister holds tight. Brianne, blinded by guilt and rage, heats her hands. She thrashes until she can contort herself enough to brush her palms over the skin of the woman’s exposed forearms. 

Sister Monika screams and lets go. Brianne makes it three steps away before there’s a ringing in her ears and a buzzing on her skin that causes her to stumble into the closest pew. It doesn’t stop her, though. The two templars still left in the Chantry when she performed magic are looking at her as though they’ve never seen a mage withstand a Silencing before. Brianne feels a flash of pride at her mother’s training as she shoves herself off the pew and barrels past the men.

Though the Silencing didn’t stop her, she still doesn’t make it far. Before she’s cleared the steps of the Chantry, someone is grabbing her arm and something is colliding with the side of her head and somehow the ground is rushing towards the sky. Then she knows nothing else.

********************

Brianne wakes to the sound of voices. Her head throbs, her mouth is cotton-dry, and her back aches from lying in the twisted position she finds herself in. A thin blanket separates her body from the cold wooden floor. The room that she’s in is dark, lit only by the meager amount of moonlight shining through a small window on the other side of the room. Brianne slowly tries to roll fully onto her back while lowering her right arm, which is draped awkwardly above her head. She gets herself lying flat, but can’t lower her arm. There’s a heavy weight encircling her wrist, and when Brianne yanks her arm down harder, she feels the tension of cold, metal rings and hears the heavy, wooden desk next to her head groan. 

Fantastic. The templars assaulted her, drugged her, and chained her to a desk. Brianne’s never been drugged before, but she feels more sluggish and slush-brained than other concussions have left her feeling in the past. It will just take a moment of letting her magic run through her body to figure out what’s been done.

Thank the Maker the diagnosis spell takes no time to prime and only a moment to complete. Right as Brianne lets her magic fill her, the voices she hadn’t been paying attention to fall silent. Before Brianne’s truly processed how her body needs to be healed, a small shockwave purges the spell, and seconds later all her magic is ripped from her.

She grits her teeth and reminds herself to breathe. The templars on the other side of the closed door are quiet, most likely listening for the noises of agony she should be making right now. She won’t give them the satisfaction. A few heartbeats pass before the men pick up talking again, and Brianne heaves in deep breaths, waiting for the connection to her magic to reestablish itself. Soon, Brianne hears the harsh clank of armor, and a new voice joins the two outside her door. 

“Is everyone back already?” 

“Yeah. Got dark right quick. Camp wuz right where she said it’d be, but no mutha.”

Someone mutters an angry, “Deserter,” followed by a gurgled, spitting sound. 

“Knight-Lieutenant’ll send uz out again in the mornin’. ‘E wants ‘er found.”

“Girl’s still going to the Circle tomorrow?”

“Yeah. A recruit already left ta run a letter ta the Knight-Commander. They’ll be waitin’ for ‘er.”

Oh no. That will not be happening. If her mother wasn’t found, then Brianne can still catch up to her. Brianne needs to get out of here, though. Thinking her guards are sufficiently distracted, Brianne gathers just enough magic needed to heal her concussion and burn away the sleeping draught still running through her bloodstream. 

The same things happen as did earlier: Brianne casts her spell; it works fast enough to narrowly miss being dispelled; then Brianne’s turned into a gasping mess as she’s cut off from her magic yet again.

A fist or booted foot slams into the door twice before one of the templars yells, “Knock it off!”

Brianne hears the others chuckling to each other, and their discussion picks up again. They speculate about where Brianne and her mother came from. They talk about the weather. They jest and tease each other, all while Brianne waits for her magic to return, and for the templars to let their guard down.

One of the men (she thinks it’s the one that went on the manhunt for her mother) wishes the other two good-night, and reminds them that their replacements will switch with them in a few more hours. As the clanking of the man’s armor becomes fainter and fainter, Brianne ever so slowly begins to ice over the chain on her wrist. Maybe the slow, incremental working of a spell will go undetected compared to the quick bursts she worked earlier.

She’s blinded by the most intense flash of light she’s ever seen just before her spell is swept away and every muscle in her body seizes. The door opens, and her two guards enter to stand over her stunned form. 

“Hm. Might ‘ave been a bit much,” the first one says, pity shining through his eyes.

“No,” the second one responds, crouching closer to Brianne. She’d spit in his face if she could work her lips. “The girl’s gotta learn. We can keep doing this all night, or she can get some more sleep and be rested for her trip. It’s her choice.” 

“Besides,” the first templar says softly, “Ya can’t go anywhere without us findin’ ya. We got yer phylactery all made ‘n ready fer yer trip ta’morrow. Even if ya get out, we’d just fetch ya right up.” 

Brianne starts crying. At first it’s difficult to do, what with the strange paralysis happening, but that’s wearing off quickly. Short, gasping sobs transform into prolonged, soul-wrenching cries. 

She cries in guilt for the betrayal of her mother’s trust. She cries for the slow death that Annika now must face alone. She cries as she watches the dreams she had of the future crumbling into soot and ashes in front of her very eyes. 

As she cries, the first templar jailor exclaims, “Flames, girl! Don’t...don’t cry about it,” and continues to stands in the doorway awkwardly, while the second one simply gets up and returns to his post outside the door. As her hysterics gradually lessen, the first templar turns and rushes out, returning quickly with a cup of water and a small bread roll. She doesn’t take them from him when he tries to hand them to her, so he sets them on the desk chair within reach. He returns to his post, softly easing the door shut on his way out.

Time is meaningless as Brianne lies limp on the floor. She knows she should eat and drink, but she can’t bring herself to. She listens to the natural, nighttime sounds that creep in through the window, along with the subdued chatter of the templars on the other side of the door. The changing of the guard happens, and Brianne’s new jailors don’t speak to each other as they stand watch. 

Brianne dozes fitfully. She stumbles in and out of the Fade, running from everything and nothing, until something causes her to jolt awake. She lies in the dark, disoriented, until she hears a muffled thump against the door. There’s an audible jangle of keys, and then the sound of the lock turning. 

The door opens, but no one seems to come in. It’s darker than it was earlier. The moon has shifted, and most of the candles in the main body of the Chantry have been snuffed out. Brianne hears the barest whisper of footsteps. There’s sleep in her eyes that doesn’t want to be dislodged, and the arm shackled to the desk has fallen asleep and is numb. A figure that’s a shade darker than the rest of the room moves towards her as she tries to sit up. She reaches out to it, barely daring to hope.

“Mama?” She whispers the word like a broken prayer.

There’s the briefest flash of silver in the darkness before the woman responds. “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter.” 

“Mama? Oh thank...thank you! I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

There’s a closer flash of moonlight off of unsheathed iron. “Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” 

“I...I’m chained to the desk, Mama. Do you have the key? Did you take the key from them?’

Brianne’s eyes adjust enough to the darkness, and the woman finally steps close enough for Brianne to make out details. “Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.” 

“I don’t...I don’t think you can cut the chain with that knife, Mama. Can you…” her request is choked off by the woman’s hand catching Brianne around her throat and squeezing.

“In their blood the Maker’s will is written,” Annika hisses, kneeling down next to her daughter’s form.

“Mah...muh…” Brianne wheezes. Her free fingers scrabble at her mother’s hand around her throat. “St…op.”

“This is for my daughter, abomination,” Annika spits, clenching around Brianne’s windpipe even harder.

“N…o. Me…” Brianne insists. “An...nie. Yuh…your…ba...by…”

The woman stares at Brianne’s face. She seems to be look for something. Brianne tries to stare back, but she’s not certain if her lack of sight is due to the darkness of the room or the loss of blood to her brain. Annika eases her grip a fraction and lowers her head, as though she’s thinking. She stays like that for a long time. Long enough for Brianne to gain her vision back. Brianne stays still and loose, actively keeping herself from fighting out of the woman’s hold. 

Finally, Annika sets her shoulders and glares down at Brianne, tightening her grip again. “Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.”

Brianne tries to scream, and lashes out with a Mind Blast, knocking over almost everything in the room. The chair holding her water cup crashes to the floor. The shattering of the crockery is loud in the silent Chantry. Books crash down from bookshelves, and even the open door slams closed, then pops open again. 

Everything moves except the woman attached to her. Annika lets out her own feral snarl and bends forward to hiss in Brianne’s ear, “Rot in the Void, you filthy monster.”

There’s a sharp pain in Brianne’s left shoulder, then her mother’s being torn away from her. There’s light in the Chantry again. Annika’s dagger is stained red. Blood flies off of it in graceful arches as she swings and slashes at the templars surrounding her. Brianne lies on the floor, vision going black again. Wet, gurgled wheezing replaces her dry wheezing. The fighting spills into the body of the Chantry. She hears her mother screaming a battle cry for her and for Nolin. For her lost daughter and husband. A Chantry Sister is unshackling Brianne’s arm and speaking to her. Another woman pushes on Brianne’s chest and says things to her as well.

There is nothing but pain. Tears fall out of her eyes and blood coats her teeth. There is nothing but pain and guilt. Brianne watches through the open door as the body of her mother drops between two pews and does not get up again. There is nothing by pain and guilt and grief. The pain is sharp and burning. Is this what Andraste felt on the pyre? The pain is everything, and Brianne feels healed by it. _Let me live with this for all eternity, Maker. Let it be my debt to pay._

Gradually, the ocean of pain becomes the lighthouse. It’s no longer enveloping waves crashing against the shoreline, but a single beam of light guiding her home. She follows it, even though she can’t remember where home is. The pain sears through her skin, deep into bone, and settles in her soul. The pain speaks to her. It’s her father and her mother, Felix and Dorian, Ealga and Iona, Caldwell and Cullen, Keeper Deshanna and Grand Enchanter Fiona. The pain smiles a sunburst smile, and tell her never to forget... 

_Within my creation, none are alone._

Brianne is being ripped sideways. The world is upside down. She’s falling and screaming, for it hurts. Everything hurts, and the pain…

********************

The pain causes her to bolt upright in bed. Cullen’s already sitting up, with a look of worry marring his handsome face. He says something to her, but she can’t hear it past the ringing in her ears. Her shoulder is on fire. Brianne’s covered in sweat, causing her tunic to cling to her skin. The wound has opened, Brianne is certain, and she has to check on it.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed, and the movement sends shockwaves of phantom agony through her left arm and chest. Everything has long since healed. She’s not in Redcliffe’s Chantry anymore. She’s in Cullen’s bedroom loft. She knows theses things. She knows them to be true. But the pain is so real, and her tunic is damp, and Maker she’s so scared. She has to be certain. She has to be.

Cullen has a small mirror hanging above his wash basin. Brianne throws herself out of bed and stumbles over to it. She tries to rip the neckline of her tunic open wider, down the middle, but she’s not strong enough. She lets out a frustrated sob, rips the article of clothing off of her, and shucks the whole thing violently to the ground. Completely bare and exposed, she frantically probes and examines the ugly, puckered dagger-scar that’s lived in between her left collarbone and breast since she was ten years old. 

It’s still burning. She’s looking right at it. The scar-skin is smooth to the touch and long since healed, and it’s still hurting her. Her hands shake as she lets loose a pulse of her magic, searching for what’s wrong. Another sob bubbles out when she sees that absolutely nothing is wrong. She’s disfigured, but healed. Shattered, yet pieced back together. She gained full mobility of her chest muscles within weeks of the attack, and full mobility of her arm a month later. Everything is fine. Everything should be fine. 

Something brushes feather-light against her arms. Looking past her image in the small mirror, she sees her Commander. He’s standing right behind her, just as naked as she is. He’s been gently calling to her this whole time, but she’s been too preoccupied to respond.

“Enchanter?” he tries again, and she blinks at his reflection.

“Brianne?” His fingers ghost over her shoulders again and it sets off her trembling even worse.

“Annie?” he whispers, and that breaks her. She folds forward at the waist, covering her scar and hiding her tears, but Cullen isn’t having any of that. He steps closer, gathers her in his arms, and leads her back to the bed. He climbs in first, settling against the headboard in a seated position, then maneuvers her to sit in the middle of his open legs with her back to his chest. He gathers the single blanket he has and drapes it over them, pulling it up to her throat and tucking it in.

They stay like that for the rest of the night. They stay like that until Brianne runs out of tears, and their tracks along her cheeks have dried. They stay like that until she’s whispered all of her story into the crook of Cullen’s neck, and Cullen has breathed all of his understanding and acceptance into the crown of her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blessed Andraste on a flaming pyre! I may or may not have cried after writing the first draft of this chapter. My love and thanks go out to every person that read, left a kudo, or left a comment on this story. This is just the end of Part I. Part II will be titled “From the Lips of the Vanquishers.” I am still working on planning details, so you might not see the first chapter for a while. 
> 
> I have two other pieces in the works as well. The first one is called “Prophet and Liberator,” and is a collection of oneshots about Caldwell Trevelyan. The other one is currently untitled, but is also another collection of oneshots centered around Brianne’s parents. It is likely that you will see something from either of these pieces before the first chapter of Part II.
> 
> I would love for people to leave me comments about things they’d like to see (concerning Brianne). I haven’t written many fluffy things, and I’m feeling bad for my Enchanter. Should she sing in the tavern with Maryden? Bake cookies with Sera? Spar with Dorian? Go shopping with Viv? Take a moonlit dip in a lake with our dashing Commander? Let me know. I’m missing a beta to help me toss around ideas.


End file.
